Secrets
by BlissfullySortOfAnonymous
Summary: She can never get close to anyone. She won't allow it. Why? Because Elphaba Thropp has a secret, a secret that could easily destroy her and everyone she cares about. Fiyeraba
1. Secrets

**Disclaimer: It's MINE!!!!....Or not.**

**This idea sprouted from my fascination with all things medieval, and with everything involving a "dark secret" of some sort. I generally stick to fluff and funnies, but I'm gonna try to do something with an actual plot now. *le gasp* It's going to be very difficult for me to write, I think, but I'm very excited about it. No harm in trying, eh? And if you guys like it, I'll be motivated to try harder, lol. Still, I might be slower updating it than I am with my other story.**

**As a bit of a backdrop, I'm picturing Oz in this story as having kind of a LOTR/Stardust feel to it (yes, I did borrow the name "Lamia" from Stardust). It's not a happy place- "dark times" and all that, you know. I'm thinking I want Elphie to be around 5 years old in this chapter.**

**Oh, as a side note- I've got the basics of the plot worked out (and I've figured out how Yero fits in, of course, lol) but that's pretty much it. It's pretty sketchy at the moment, so if anyone has ideas, PLEASE let me know.**

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**Prologue**

Oz was a dangerous place; there was no doubt about that. Witchcraft of every kind ran rampant, and one could only hope and pray not to end up on the wrong end of it. Hope, because nothing was certain. Pray, because no one was safe.

**Chapter 1: Secrets**

She was dying, and she knew it. Despite the vehement denials of her husband and the midwife, Melena Thropp was certain of that. Death has a funny way of making one remember their mistakes, their regrets…and their secrets. And of Melena's many secrets, not the least of which was the true father of her oldest daughter, all but one would go with her to the grave. All but one….

"Elphaba," she whispered hoarsely. "I need to see Elphaba."

The child was fetched, and Melena ordered everyone else out of the room. She motioned weakly for her daughter to come to her. Elphaba looked at her mother with wide, tear-filled eyes; they were the tears of an innocent child thrust face-to-face with reality in all its bitterness. "Mommy, are you going to die?"

Melena smiled sadly, her heart aching for the little girl. "I'm afraid so. But you mustn't be afraid, darling." The child's lip had begun to quiver. "We don't have much time, and there's something very important that I have to tell you- something you must never tell _anyone_ else. Do you understand?" Elphaba nodded, still tearful.

Melena lifted a shaking hand to point across the room. "Go to my wardrobe and you will find a small door in the floor, underneath the pile of clothes in the corner," she instructed. "Open it and bring me the book that's inside."

Elphaba did as she was told, removing a dusty, ancient-looking leather-bound book from the small compartment and handing it to her mother. "This," Melena rasped, "is the Grimmerie."

Elphaba gasped. "But Mommy, you said it wasn't real."

"I only said that to protect you. But now…" Finding the energy to speak was becoming harder. "When I am gone, Elphaba, you will have to do that for yourself."

"What do you mean, Mommy?" Elphaba whimpered, frightened at the thought of her mother being gone.

"Elphaba, only one other person in Oz knows of this book's existence- a sorceress, Lamia, who would use it to destroy our world. She doesn't know that I have it, but she's searching….always searching." She stopped for a moment, coughing violently, then found her voice again and continued, "Elphaba, when I am gone, you must guard this book with your life. You have…the gift, and you must learn to use it." She placed the book in her daughter's hands. "Learn these spells, but use them wisely- a single misplaced word may wreak havoc on an entire nation."

"Mommy, I'm scared." Elphaba was sobbing now, fear for the loss of her mother combined with fear of this strange book and the witch who was after it.

"Here." Melena removed the necklace she wore- a silver chain with a small amethyst pendant- and slipped it over her daughter's head. "As long as you wear this, she cannot find you. Never take it off. One slip from you, one _moment_ without this necklace, is all she needs to learn who possesses this book. She cannot find you so long as you wear it, but if she discovers so much as your name, she will do all in her power to destroy you and everyone you care about. Guard your emotions carefully; she will not hesitate to use anyone you love against you."

"One more thing- I love you, Phaba. Never forget that, no matter how horrible your father is. Always remember that...that your mother loves you. " Her voice broke, and she stroked the small girl's cheek one last time, then whispered, "Go. Hide the book. Your father must never learn any of this. Go, my darling- quickly, before he comes back."

With a last longing look at her mother, Elphaba scurried from the room, crying uncontrollably. Her task complete, Melena closed her eyes and surrendered to the all-encompassing nothingness of death.

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**What do y'all think? The little button is smiling at you…. "Push me, please!" it says. **


	2. Fire

**Disclaimer: Nope- I don't own it. **

**And the plot thickens....lol. I surprisingly don't have anything else to say, so...enjoy!**

**Chapter 2: Fire**

"Elphaba!" Frexspar Thropp's booming voice was easily heard from Elphaba's third-floor bedroom, and she heaved a sigh as she scrambled to get downstairs before he called again. Her father was not the sort of man who tolerated being made to wait.

She skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, then took a moment to compose herself before stepping into his office. She was a slave to his every whim, it was true, but he didn't need to know the full extent of that. He didn't need to know that she lived in fear of making one wrong move and incurring his wrath. Let him think that she came so promptly because it happened to be convenient for her.

"You called, Father?" she said with an air of cool dignity that belied the utter hatred she felt for the man.

Her father didn't so much as look up from his paperwork. "Yes, I have a meeting with some Vinkan prince in an hour, and I want you out of sight. He will be staying with us tonight, so you will go to your bedroom and stay there until I send the maid for you tomorrow."

"Of course," she replied acidly.

He looked at her then, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. She cursed herself silently for not controlling her temper. "You'd better watch your mouth, missy, or I might decide to- what's that?"

Elphaba followed his gaze to the amethyst pendant that hung in clear view over her dress. '_Oh no...How did I forget to tuck it in this morning?'_ Panic, instantaneous but alarmingly violent, threatened to overwhelm her. _'I'm as good as dead . He'll take it and she'll find me, and I'll die.'_

Her voice was deceptively calm. "It's nothing- just a necklace mother gave me." She realized too late that that was the wrong thing to say.

"It's from Melena? Well, in that case, you have no right to it. Give it to me." Frexspar snatched the pendant and tore it from her neck, breaking the clasp easily.

Frantic now, she pleaded, "Father, please. Please give it back. I'll do anything, I'll-" He backhanded her hard across the face, and she gasped, falling backward from the force of his blow. He took an ominous step toward her. "You dare to talk back to me?"

She shook her head violently; clearly this was a lost cause. Unless….one little word from her would be all it took to make him pay. _'Just one word..._' Her fingers twitched, aching to perform the spell that would bring justice to the man who made her life a living hell...but no. He could never know about her powers, or he would expose her. She'd have to kill him then, and that would break Nessa's heart. Elphaba fought the hopelessness that had an icy grip on her heart. _'Calm down, Elphaba.' _She would simply get the necklace back later, and then go into hiding somewhere, anywhere. Anywhere was better than here.

"That's what I thought," Frexspar smirked. "Now get upstairs; I'm tired of looking at you."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Miles away, a bent and wrinkled old woman sat hunched over a crystal ball, reciting a powerful incantation. She'd had no success in years, but a strange wind blew that night, and she fully expected a change.

Then, without warning, beams of light burst from the crystal in every direction, and a face appeared inside it. It was the face of a young girl, about seventeen years old, with proud, distinctive features. A girl with pitch-black hair…and emerald-green skin.

But there was more than that….something was strangely familiar about those features. The witch looked closer. They belonged to someone she'd known once, years ago….Suddenly it clicked. The nose, the mouth, the eyes, everything- this was the mirror image of her great-granddaughter, Melena Thropp.

"So it was her all this time…" Lamia mused. "Sweet little Melena, who would've guessed? And now her daughter…"

She lifted her face to the sky, and all at once her wrinkles began to fade, leaving in their place an impossibly beautiful woman of no more than twenty-five. She drew her hood up over her head, hiding her shimmering golden waves and piercing green eyes from view. It was time to pay her long-lost granddaughter a visit.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fiyero Tiggular arrived at the governor of Munchkinland's estate exactly on time. '_Another three hours of discussing boring topics with boring men...' _he thought dully. His father sent him to these meetings because he had a knack for politics and making people see things his way, but Fiyero had no love for the job. Unfortunately, in times such as these, such meetings were essential- one had to make friendly ties wherever possible to guard against the...less than friendly forces at work in Oz and the surrounding areas.

As he rode through the gates, Fiyero caught a flash of green in one of the upper windows. Intrigued, he looked closer to find that it actually resembled…a girl? '_A girl with green skin….'_ Surely he was going crazy. The endless hours of meetings must finally be taking their toll on his sanity. He glanced back up at the window-and she was gone. '_Yup. I'm definitely losing it.'_

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As the meeting wore on, Elphaba quietly went about packing a suitcase. She'd retrieved the amethyst with a simple summoning charm, and now she had to make her escape. There was no taking chances- if Lamia had discovered her identity, she would have to disappear, and go to very the last place anyone would expect her to be. Somewhere where no one knew her or cared about her. Somewhere remote and rarely visited. The Vinkus seemed to fit that qualification. She couldn't bring herself to regret leaving, because she'd been considering running for years, but always put it off for one reason or another. It seemed that it couldn't be put off any longer. All that was left to do was wait until everyone was asleep.

Elphaba leaned her head against the headboard of her bed and sighed. Her eyelids were heavy, and she allowed them to close. '_Just for a minute…'_

_She was running. She didn't know what from, or where to- only that she had to get away. It was dark, the moon blocked by the tangle of branches that made up the dense forest, and her heart hammered wildly. She tripped over a tree root and lurched, catching herself just in time. She couldn't stop; she had to keep running._

_She was getting closer…closer….but so was it. It was going to catch her, she couldn't outrun it….and then there was nothing but pain, an emotional agony that threatened to rip her heart from her chest. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't see, she was going to die-'_

Elphaba woke with a gasp, panting heavily. Her room was dark; she'd slept too long. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself, and immediately began to choke. Her eyes stung and watered- was that smoke in the air?

She ran to her door and yanked it open, and a thick column of smoke billowed inside, suffocating her. '_I have to get out.'_

Elphaba rushed back to bed and threw herself down on her stomach, groping wildly for the loose floorboard underneath the bed. She found it and extracted the Grimmerie, then placed it in a pouch and slung it over her shoulder.

The room was quickly filling with smoke, and she knew she had to get out now or die. The thought crossed her mind that at this point death might be pleasant- or at least preferable to becoming a fugitive. It would be so easy to lie down on her bed and slip into a lack-of-oxygen-induced coma, and simply never wake up again. But the book...Lamia would get the book.

Her mind made up, Elphaba darted out the door and through the hall, her steps getting slower and heavier as more and more smoke filled her lungs. She was dizzy, spots erupted in her vision….and then everything went black.

_**Click the button, click the button, click the-**_** *ahem* I mean, no, I most certainly do **_**not**_** care whether you click the button or not. **


	3. Rescue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**So many reviews last chapter! I think you guys broke my record!! I really appreciate it. **

**Since you're all so wonderful, here's the next chapter. **

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**Chapter Three: Rescue**

Despite the extremely comfortable bed that the governor had provided, Fiyero tossed and turned that night for what felt like hours. He was a curious person by nature, and curiosity made him restless.

What had aroused his curiosity this particular night was a story he'd been told earlier that evening. After the meeting that night, he'd managed to get one of the maids alone to inquire after the mysterious flash of green he'd seen in the upstairs window. He knew it had probably been a hallucination, but he couldn't help but wonder whether there was more behind it than he'd originally thought. Feeling ridiculous for even mentioning the incident, he'd expected the maid to simply look at him like the crazy person that he was, and give no answer. But to his surprise, she _did_ give an answer- one that sparked his interest rather than satisfying it. She'd fanned the hypothetical flames, and now he was having quite a difficult time putting them out.

The maid had spun an intriguing tale of a daughter who was hated and abused by the governor for her skin, which she described as the exact shade of emerald that he'd seen. Shunned by all, the girl had grown up isolated and rather eccentric, according to the maid, with a knack for being defiant whenever she could get away with it. "There's something strange about that girl," the woman had whispered ominously. "It's like she's…hiding something, but nobody knows what. She keeps to herself- never talks to anybody. You'd almost think she was _afraid_ of caring about anyone." The maid knew nothing more about the girl, except that all of the servants were intimidated by her.

'_Poor girl. I'd like to give her father a piece of my mind…cold-hearted monster.'_ Fiyero was glad for a valid excuse to dislike the governor; the man had a greasy, unpleasant air about him, and it had taken all of Fiyero's will-power during the meeting to refrain from slapping the smirk right off his face.

Fiyero rolled onto his back with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling in defeat; he clearly wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

His ears perked up suddenly at a sound in the hallway. Someone was shouting something, but the door muffled the sound, making the words unintelligible. The urgency in the person's voice, however, could not be mistaken.

Rolling clumsily out of bed, Fiyero strode quickly to the door and poked his head out. That's when he smelled the smoke. Servants were running frantically in every direction, screaming hysterically, and a thick haze filled the hallway. A faint orange glow could be seen at the end of the long corridor, coming from around the corner, and the shadows cast by the unseen flames danced across the walls.

Realizing instantly that his only hope of getting out alive was to follow someone who knew the mansion well, Fiyero grabbed his suitcase and raced after the maid he'd spoken to earlier. She was carrying a small child, whose terrified cries could barely be heard over the din. He followed the woman through the maze of hallways, and the front door soon loomed welcomingly before them. He stumbled out of it, breathing in the cool air with relief.

It seemed everyone had made it out before he did; Frex was there, as well as Nessa and a handful of maids, and a few children. '_Wait a minute…'_ The story from earlier still fresh in his mind, he scanned the lawn anxiously, twice for good measure._ 'Where is she?'_

"Governor Thropp," Fiyero said urgently. "Where's your other daughter?"

Frex looked stunned at first, but recovered quickly. "I have no other daughter," he spat. His eyes took on a malicious glint that clearly said that Fiyero was to drop the subject and not bring it up again.

Stubborn as ever, Fiyero pressed on. "Yes, you do. I saw her. _Where is she_?" Angry now, Fiyero's eyes blazed. Was he seriously going to let his daughter burn to death? "She's still in there, isn't she? Isn't she?!"

Frexspar didn't answer; he took that as a yes. "Where is her bedroom?" Still, no answer. Fiyero grabbed the governor's shoulders and shook him. "What is the matter with you?" he shouted. "She's going to die if you don't tell me where to find her!"

The governor calmly removed himself from Fiyero's grasp. "Then let her die," he said coldly, then turned and walked away.

Fiyero could hardly believe it. '_That man is pure evil…'_ But there was no time to think. Glancing between the safety of the outdoors and the burning building, he made his decision. He dashed inside and bolted up the stairs, covering his stinging eyes and nose with his arm. '_Third floor, third floor….'_ He began to panic. _Both _of their lives were at stake now. How in Oz was he going to find her in time?

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Hidden in the edge of the forest that bordered the Thropp mansion, Lamia searched the lawn for the green-skinned girl, but she was nowhere to be found. To her intense frustration, she could not sense the girl's presence as she should be able to- most likely due to a charm or amulet of some sort- but she would surely be able to _see_ her. Assuming that was true, the girl must still be inside.

'_Perfect.'_ The girl would burn to a crisp, and the book, which was virtually indestructible, would remain unscathed. Lamia closed her eyes and reached out with her mind, searching yet again for the elusive consciousness of her great-great-granddaughter.

She growled in frustration- nothing. But there _was_ someone else. She concentrated her efforts onto this person, and gathered together a blurred image of him in her mind. It was a man, about twenty years old by the looks of him, and he was clearly searching for something. '_Is he looking for her?'_ Lamia's eyes flashed dangerously. '_Maybe a little more heat…'_ Muttering a spell under her breath, the witch watched in satisfaction as the flames spread to engulf the entire mansion. '_See if the little wench can find her way out of that.'_

Lamia kept close tabs on the prince. Sure enough, as soon as she turned up the heat, he turned and fled back down the stairs- and still, there was no sign of the girl. _'Poor boy must've given up...Such a shame that he's as good as dead anyway.'_ A low cackle slipped from her lips. _'Too easy...'_

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The whole third floor was alight with that orange glow that Fiyero had glimpsed from his bedroom, and the heat was unbearable. He was about to accept defeat when he tripped over something and stumbled into the wall. Looking down, he saw what appeared to be the girl he was looking for, though her skin was so blackened by smoke that it was hard to tell.

He bent and lifted her thin body into his arms, and staggered toward the staircase. Flames licked at the banister, making him worry that the stairs might give way beneath him. They did not, but when he finally reached the ground floor, he found that the way he had come from was blocked. He was surrounded on all sides by flames- all sides but one, that is. This lone side was a very unpromising hallway that looked as if it led to the heart of the mansion- the very last place he wanted to be. But it was his only hope.

Praying that this one unblocked hallway somehow led to an exit, but not really believing it, he ran down it as fast as he could. After several twists and turns, he came to what looked to be the pantry. _'Oh, wonderful,'_ he thought, nearly hysterical. '_We're underground- trapped.'_

He sunk down on the floor, hugging the girl to his chest. "I'm sorry," he told her, though of course she couldn't hear him. "I tried." He noticed then that tears were streaming down his filthy cheeks; it seemed the part of his brain that controlled his tear ducts had realized that he was going to die before the rest of his brain had accepted it.

As this seemingly inescapable fact began to sink in, his entire body seemed to cry out in protest, begging him to try one more time. Hopelessly, he cast his eyes around the dark cellar, swinging his head back around as he caught sight of something. Was that a trap door in the side of the wall? _'Of course!'_ He remembered then that pantries always had such doors, specifically for cases such as this.

He approached the door,clumsy with eagerness, his dry throat aching for the fresh air on the other side of it. A heavy iron lock hung from the latch, and, not to be deterred, he searched for something to break it with. _"I am not going to die today. Not if I can help it.'_

All he could find was a thick metal ladle, and he swung it with all of his might toward the lock. It finally broke on the fourth try, and Fiyero let out a triumphant yell. Lifting the unconscious girl easily, he carefully slid her through the opening before hauling himself up and out into the night. He fell to his hands and knees, gasping for air, and took in their surroundings. They had emerged in back of the house, near the stables.

Remembering the girl he'd rescued, Fiyero crawled over to her and examined her carefully, hoping desperately that he hadn't been too late. She didn't appear to be breathing, but he laid a hand on her chest, still hoping. And there it was- a heartbeat. It was faint, very weak, but she was alive. He squinted closer; he could see her chest rising and falling now.

Wiping the soot from her face, he gazed at the skin that inspired so much hatred in the governor. It was unusual, to be sure, but not bad- certainly not a valid reason for wishing death on your own daughter. _'If there even is a valid reason for wishing such a thing,' _he thought bitterly. That man had nearly gotten them both killed, and Fiyero didn't intend to forget it.

It occurred to Fiyero then that this girl couldn't stay here; not with a father who wanted her dead. He would have to smuggle her away, get her to safety somewhere. Overcome with compassion for her, he gently stroked her cheek, brushing off the last of the soot to reveal a large purple bruise covering her cheekbone. He snorted angrily. _'Bet he did that too.'_

Fiyero scooped the girl into his arms again and started toward the stable. They would have to take one of the governor's horses- it was the least that wretched man could do for his daughter. The girl stirred, and her eyes fluttered open weakly. "Where…where am I?" Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"Shh," he hushed her. "You need to save your strength. You're in your backyard, and I'm going to take care of you, don't worry. I'm going to take you away from here."

"Oh." Her head flopped weakly back onto his chest, and he added as an afterthought, "What's your name?"

There was a long pause, and he thought she must be unconscious. Her mind working much too slowly for her liking, Elphaba deliberated whether to answer him. She shouldn't- it was dangerous- but he _had_ saved her life. She could feel her grip on consciousness slipping. "Elphaba," she whispered finally. "My name is Elphaba." And then the familiar blackness took over.


	4. Complications

**Disclaimer: Nothing's mine.**

**Alrighty, here's the next one finally! This one required me to get around one of my issues that some of you probably already heard (or saw) me mention before- I CANNOT invent my own languages. Therefore, since I can't always just say that "the witch cast a spell" and leave it at that, I think I'm going to do them in German. I've been listening obsessively to the German cast of Wicked (which is funny, because I used to think that language was hideous), and fallen completely in love with it (hint hint- so should you!!), so I wanted to just pick random cool-sounding words from the songs and use those as spells. But then I found out that some of the words I wanted to use meant things like "dreamy"- not exactly the most suited to someone who's trying to murder Elphie:P So I had to use accurate (hopefully) German. Anyway, enjoy and try to get past the fact that most of you probably think German's the ugliest thing ever :-) **

**Oh, and thanks for all the reviews last time!! I seriously love you guys.**

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Lamia hovered in the shadows at the edge of the clearing, her cloak blending seamlessly into the blackness, until the crowd around the Thropp Manor dissipated, leaving behind nothing but a barren graveyard of ashes and rubble.

The enchantress stepped from her hiding place at last and advanced toward the deserted ruins. She stretched out her hand, her fingers tense with excitement, and commanded imperiously, "Buch antiker Hexerei- komm zu mir!"

She waited expectantly, already glowing with triumph- but nothing happened. She tried again; still nothing. Perhaps there was another guard placed on the book…but no, if the girl was dead- and she _was_ dead- her spell would have died along with her. _'It can't be possible…'_ "I burned you alive," she hissed into the darkness.

She dug furiously through the piles of ash, searching every inch of the charred and blackened ground. But there was nothing.

The girl must have escaped.

Lamia threw back her head and sent a piercing cry of frustration into the night. How was this possible? The wench was supposed to be dead, burnt to a crisp!

Oh, but she would be found. The girl would be found, and she would suffer for this inconvenience.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Elphaba woke with a pounding ache in her head. She sat up unsteadily, gasping as the room tilted dizzily. With her sharp inhalation came an equally sharp pain in her chest; no doubt her lungs were not yet accustomed to fresh air. And her throat…her throat was on fire, drier than the Vinkus in July.

"Water," she croaked. She had to find water.

Oddly enough, water found _her_ a moment later. She took the proffered glass readily from a pair of hands that had materialized in front of her, draining it quickly, and then handed it back. On second examination, she found that the hands were rather large, and strong-looking, almost like…._male_ hands. She'd never had a fondness for men, what with their rough demeanor, bullheaded stupidity, and tendency towards abuse. So what was he doing here?

Then it all came rushing back to her- her mysterious rescuer, a hazy, barely conscious memory of riding stealthily through the woods in the night…._'Where in Oz am I?'_

Elphaba took in her surroundings; she appeared to be in some sort of hotel room. Her eyes circled the room before coming to rest apprehensively on the man who knelt by her bedside. He was beautiful; she noticed that right away. Not that it meant anything, of course; men were all the same- monsters like her father. But was he actually…_smiling_?

Unnerved, her natural coarseness took over. "Well?" she demanded. "The green _thing_ is awake now. Isn't it time to run screaming?"

He didn't move, only stared at her like she'd grown another head. _'Well, it's a start,'_ she thought grimly, mistaking the reason for the stare. But he still wasn't moving. She frowned. "What are you waiting for?"

Still he stayed put. "Elphaba, what are you talking about?" He spoke gently, as if talking to someone who was either sick or very confused. "Why would I run?"

Indignant about being spoken to like an invalid, she said rudely, as though it should be obvious, "Because that's what everybody does. Don't worry; I won't be offended. One close-minded imbecile is just like the next."

"Well, _I_ am not everyone. Your father tried to let you burn to death last night, and whether you want my help or not, I'd be in no way decent if I didn't at least get you to safety." Fiyero tried to be patient, in light of what she'd just gone through, and because of the way he knew she'd been treated all of her life; such treatment was bound to make even the sweetest person a bit difficult.

Elphaba, it seemed, was going to more than just a bit difficult about this. "But you don't even know me," she protested, irritated at his persistence; she wanted nothing to do with this man. What was his problem anyway?

He merely shrugged. "I'd do the same for anyone." '_That's not entirely true_,' a voice in the back of his head nagged, but he ignored it.

Baffled, Elphaba could only stare at him. Surely he was bluffing, right? She'd never met anyone who could honestly say he would save any complete stranger from a burning house and then take them "to safety", wherever that was. "Who _are_ you?"

"My name's Fiyero."

She arched an eyebrow. "Just Fiyero?"

Fiyero hesitated. People tended to treat him differently when they knew who he was; he'd never been able to get to know someone without the barrier of his title standing between them. And he thought he might like to get to know this girl, regardless of how prickly she was. At the very least, he thought _she_ could use a friend. "Yes. Just Fiyero."

"Well, Fiyero, I think you're just about the craziest and most bewildering man I've ever met." Her expression softened. "But I suppose I _should_ thank you. I don't know anyone else who would've done that for me."

That was the clincher for Fiyero; she obviously needed him, if she was _that_ deprived of basic human kindness. He started to tell her that she was welcome, that he'd do it again, but she interrupted him. "But I'm leaving now."

Fiyero's mouth popped open slightly. "What?"

"You heard me." Elphaba got up and started toward the door. She froze midway there and whirled. The Grimmerie- where was the Grimmerie? She cast her eyes frantically around the room, and spotted her pouch lying open on the bed. She snatched it up and spun to face Fiyero. "Did you look at this?"

Fiyero took an involuntary step backwards at the wild look in her eyes, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I was only curious as to what was so important that it was the one thing you tried to save from the fire. I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd mind-"

"I _do_ mind!" she snapped. She lowered her voice to a threatening whisper. "Do you have any idea what this is?"

"An old book?" he guessed, oblivious to what was so significant about the worn-down old thing.

Elphaba's face went blank then, her fury melting away to reveal a weariness acquired from years of living with fear and secrecy. "Yes…an old book." _'An old book that you should pray you never see again,'_ she added silently. _'A book that could mean the death of you if you do. And me…it'll be the death of me too.'_ She had to get away. Now.

Elphaba headed quickly for the door again. "Wait. Elphaba!" Fiyero latched onto her arm. She struggled wildly, and he locked his arms around her waist to prevent her from escaping. "Elphaba, stop, just-"

"Let me go!" She beat his chest, determined to get away. _'Who does he think he is?'_ What right did he have to stop her?

"I'm not letting you leave. I didn't rescue you only to have you wander around the streets until you're murdered by some crazy person or die of starvation. You have no money, no horse. Where would you go?"

Elphaba went limp as his words sank in. He was right- where _would_ she go? To the Vinkus, yes, but where would she stay with no money? And how would she even get there? The hopelessness of her situation came crashing down on her like a ton of bricks, and she sagged under the weight of the burden that no one else could ever share. Fiyero supported her back to the bed, and she sank onto it weakly. "Elphaba?" he said anxiously.

"Why couldn't you have just let me die?" she choked out, hugging herself protectively. "I _want_ to be dead!" A sob tore from her chest, followed by another, and soon she collapsed onto her stomach on the bed, her shoulders shaking convulsively with the sobs that she couldn't control.

Fiyero rubbed her back as she cried, albeit awkwardly at first, but it was soothing none-the-less. Lying on a strange bed, being comforted by a strange man as she cried her heart out for the first time since her mother's death, Elphaba realized just how dangerous this situation had become. All of her life, she'd been able to rely on her coloring to keep the world at bay; if her skin and her rudeness wouldn't scare him away, then what would? It would be all too easy to learn to care for the one person in her life since her mother who didn't shrink away from her in disgust. And that couldn't happen; she wouldn't allow it. Lamia could be on her trail right now, for all she knew, and his life was already in danger simply for associating with her.

She would have to run.

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**If you, like Elphie, are feeling rather short on affection, push the little button and I'm sure it will love you forever! :P So will I, for what it's worth.**


	5. Deception

**Disclaimer: Nothing's mine.**

**Sorry for the wait! It feels like it's been forever since I worked on this one. In my defense, life has been absolutely insane- we won't go into that=) At any rate, here it is. There isn't much plot in this chapter- this is kind of to establish Elphie and Yero's current relationship, which should get pretty messy here in the next couple chapters; that'll be fun. The plot should pick up in the next one. **

* * *

Elphaba woke up to a strange warmth the next morning, which was odd since she'd been shivering all night. She looked to her right to find…what was his name? Fiyero? Yeah, that was it- Fiyero, lying uncomfortably close to her. And was that his arm around her waist? What in Oz did he think he was doing? And _why_ was that stupid, warm, tingly feeling from last night coming back now?

Shaking her head in irritation, Elphaba shrugged off the offensive limb and got to her feet, ignoring the chill that quickly returned. None of that mattered, anyway; she still had to get away. She'd just have to be sneaky about it. How to escape a frustratingly overly helpful man without having to fight him off (which she clearly couldn't do) and without allowing him to find out where she was going….Elphaba sank back down on the edge of the bed, deep in thought. She'd have to lead him in the wrong direction at first, and then she could-

A hand on her shoulder interrupted her train of thought, and she jerked instinctively away from the contact. "Hey…calm down, I didn't mean to scare you." '_Man, this girl's been through the mill…'_

Elphaba squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a breath, pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to hold in her irritation. Couldn't he have at least had the decency to sleep a little longer? If he was going to hold her here against her will, the least he could do was give her a few minutes of peace to devise an escape plan.

Schooling her features into a perfectly impassive expression, determined to reveal nothing, she turned to face him and nearly gasped. '_Oh, Oz….' _In the dim early morning light, with his hair messy from sleep, he looked….Well, it would be much easier to list all of the perfect adjectives that _didn't_ describe him at that moment than to try to do him justice- it would be a much shorter list. '_No, Elphaba, he is absolutely not better-looking than that statue of the Vinkan god of love that you saw last month at the pawn shop….'_

"How long have you been up?" he asked. She had no idea what the concern in his voice was for. "Did you get cold again?" '_Oh- he noticed.' _Why he cared, though, she couldn't comprehend. She shook her head, the memory of the warmth he'd provided earlier entering unbidden into her mind and making heat rise in her cheeks.

"Good, I….well, I hope you don't mind that I…you know." It was Fiyero's turn to go slightly pink. "You were shivering like crazy last night- it got pretty cold in here- and we didn't have another blanket, so I thought the…body heat," his cheeks darkened, "might help." He watched her cautiously, afraid she might blow up again. After her breakdown last night, he had no idea what to expect from her; she seemed a bit…unstable, emotionally, to say the least, and he knew what he'd done was pushing it. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but…

"No!" Elphaba wanted to scream. "It does _not_ help that you're making me feel these things! My life's complicated enough already." But her traitor mouth instead came out with, "Yes, it did. Thank you."

Fiyero was stunned that she wasn't actually yelling at him again. His eyes widened in surprise when she tacked on the "thank you" at the end, and he could only stare at her for a moment. "I can't figure you out at all," he said finally, shaking his head slightly. "One minute you don't want to be touched, and now you're thanking me for sleeping next to you. Where's the explosion?" He blurted the last part out right before realizing that that probably wasn't the smartest thing to say if he wanted to keep her calm.

Sure enough, Elphaba bristled, her eyes narrowing. "Do you _want_ an explosion?"

Feeling suddenly bold, and curious as to how she would respond, Fiyero leaned in, narrowing his own eyes right back at her. "Go ahead- give me your worst."

Elphaba blinked, startled by his reaction, and Fiyero laughed softly- he'd been right about one thing, at least. "I don't think you're half as tough as you pretend to be, are you? It's all an act. You, Elphaba Thropp, are a classic example of 'the kitten who thinks it's a tiger'," he proclaimed triumphantly, with an air of making a medical diagnosis.

"A _kitten_?" She huffed indignantly. "You, Fiyero…." She realized she didn't know his last name. "Fiyero…ugh, I don't even _care_ who you are; you're infuriating! Do you have any idea how degrading it is to be called a _kitten_, like I'm some sort of helpless, pathetic…" She grasped for the right word. "…_female_?"

"No, Elpha-"

She wasn't about to let him get a word in. "And who, might I ask, would be the tiger? You? Of course you would- because you're a _man_. You're a man, and that'sall that matters in our stupid, gender-biased society. Makes me sick-"

"Elphaba! Take it easy." Fiyero caught her hands, which she'd been waving around enthusiastically, and pinned them down before they could collide with his face. "Maybe not such a kitten, eh?" She continued to glare murderously at him, and he decided he'd better try to appease her if he valued his life. "C'mon, how did this turn into a women's rights discussion? I didn't mean it that way." Maybe he shouldn't have asked for an explosion after all.

"Then how _did_ you mean it?" she demanded, unappeased.

He winced inwardly; how was he going to get out of this one? Despite her fierce glare, he had to fight off a smile as he examined her thoughtfully. '_Maybe that you're strangely adorable, underneath it all….No, that won't work. Hmm, what's a safe answer to that question?'_ Thinking quickly, he came up with, "It's just an expression, that's all. But…" Taking note of her slightly more relaxed expression, he decided to risk some honesty. "It seems to me that you put on a show of being angry and intimidating to hide what you're really feeling."

"And what would that be?" she scoffed.

"I think…" Images from last night filled his mind- Elphaba sobbing uncontrollably, all pretenses gone, until finally she'd lapsed into a troubled sleep. "No, I _know_ you're hurting," he ammended, "but I don't know why…and I think you're scared, and you don't trust me. Am I right?" He kept his voice gentle and non-accusatory; he'd had as much of her wrath as he could handle in one morning.

Elphaba was uncertain how to respond, not sure how much she could reveal, and Fiyero correctly interpreted her hesitation as a yes. "Why does it matter?" was her cautious reply.

"Why can't you just admit it?" he challenged. "Why do you insist on pretending nothing's wrong?"

"I have to," she hissed with a sudden return to her former fury, yanking her hands out of his grasp. At his wounded expression, she softened slightly. "Fiyero, you don't…" She squeezed her eyes shut. "You just don't understand."

He pulled her hands back. "Then help me to," he pleaded. "I want to help, Elphaba. Please."

Her resolve seemed to waver for a moment, but then she shook her head and stood, turning away from him. "I can't."

Fiyero ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Is that it, then? You're not going to tell me a thing?"

Elphaba started to turn toward him, but stopped halfway there as a booming explosion sounded in the street below. Her head whipped around, and their eyes locked for a split second before they simultaneously dashed toward the window.

Directly below their window was what looked like a riot of some sort. People ran screaming in every direction, and several carriages had gone up in flames- not ordinary flames, but strange green ones that implied magical interference.

'_Fire._' Shivers ran up and down Elphaba's spine as she remembered her last encounter with it. The flames captivated her for a moment; they were beautiful in an eerie, deadly sort of way... That held a strange appeal for her- death, peace at last….

Her thoughts must have showed on her face, because Fiyero gripped her shoulder and said tensely, "Elphaba, we need to get out of here." She looked up at him with slightly glazed eyes, and Fiyero could've sworn the temperature dropped ten degrees. "Fire…" she whispered. Now he was afraid; she was a little too interested in that for his liking. "Elphaba, we're going," he repeated firmly. "Come away from the window." Dazed to the point of compliancy, she allowed him to lead her back to the bed and sit her down.

Safely away from the scene, she shook her head to clear it. _"No, Elphaba,' _she told herself fiercely._ 'There's a reason you didn't just let yourself die the first time._' "Where are we going?" she asked harshly, still shaken.

"Wherever you want to go. I told you I'd get you to safety, and I intend to."

It was time for step one of her plan- lead him in the wrong direction. '_No one can know where you are….' _"I want to go to the Emerald City."


	6. Intrigue

**Disclaimer: Wicked does not and, sadly, never will belong to me. **

**Ok, so my voice performance today didn't go as well as I expected, so I'm kind of upset and decided to give myself the night off from piano practicing and post instead:) Good for you guys, at least, I hope. I wrote this one in a hurry, because I realized yesterday that it'd been forever since I updated, so it's not my best....but hopefully the next one will be better.**

**Oh, and thanks so much to Elizabeth, Elphiethegood, greengirl16, and musicfan1207 for reviewing!**

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They left late that night in a carriage that Fiyero had rented discreetly from a rather less than trustworthy man he'd found near the hotel. He hesitated to let the decidedly questionable carriage driver near Elphaba- she'd been through quite enough- but he knew he could put the man in his place easily if he tried anything. Years of training in every kind of combat imaginable had seen to that.

Those years also accounted for the lean muscles that filled out his cream-colored button-up perfectly, and which were quickly becoming an object of intrigue bordering on fascination for the aforementioned green girl.

Elphaba really noticed them for the first time when Fiyero lifted her into the carriage. She swung her head around to scowl at him for the unneeded assistance, and on turning back observed with far too much interest the ripples that appeared under his shirt sleeves. On closer inspection, she found that they were in fact created by a set of very well-toned biceps pressing against the fabric as he continued to support her weight. _'Snap out of it, Elphaba,_' she told herself sternly, climbing into the carriage.

But as Fiyero took the seat next to her, she couldn't resist a curious peek at his torso. Sure enough, there were more of those blasted ripples. Fiyero met her gaze with his eyebrows raised quizzically, and she realized she was staring. Heat flooded her cheeks, and she snapped her head quickly in the other direction, looking out the window to hide her burning face from his view.

Fiyero continued to watch her as she resolutely avoided his gaze. He briefly admired the pinkish tinge in her cheeks, and he allowed his ego to be stroked momentarily by the vain but logical conclusion that she'd just been checking him out.

Strangely, though, the effect of that assumption reached more than just his ego. He suddenly found himself with a highly irrational curiosity about just what she thought of him. He was used to stares from women aged thirteen to…heck, older than his mother, but _those _women, unlike Elphaba, always made it clear that they liked what they saw. '_Blasted secrecy…._' The only thing _she'd_ bothered to make clear was that he was inconveniencing her, and beyond that, who could say?

He guessed that she must've felt his eyes on her, because after a minute, she looked back at him almost shyly from under her eyelashes. Her eyes were dark, glistening pools in the moonlight, and full of the same secretive guardedness he'd grown accustomed to, only intensified by the darkness.

The pinkish color rose in her cheeks again, and, seized by some strange impulse, Fiyero slowly reached out and stroked two fingers across the soft skin from her cheekbone to her jaw. It was warm to the touch from her blush, and the rest of his hand followed instinctively, this time caressing the whole right side of her face.

Elphaba's eyes fluttered closed before she could stop them, and she leaned slightly into his hand, swept helplessly away by what was possibly the first gentle touch she'd received since her mother died. She could definitely use more of it- much, much more….Elphaba recoiled sharply then, as if jolted from a trance, her eyes wide at the things she'd been thinking.

"Elphaba-"

"Don't say anything." She shrank away from him, huddling in the corner where the bench met the wall, and began to scold herself furiously. _'Off limits, Elphaba. Don't even go there.'_

Fiyero's voice came again, tentatively, a moment later. "Can't we be friends, at least?"

Elphaba blinked back sudden tears. "Fiyero, you don't want to be friends with me. Trust me, please." And, despite his urging, she refused to say any more.

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The manager of the Great Dragon Inn hummed tunelessly to himself as he straightened up the front desk. After a while, he dusted off his hands and turned to resume his place at the counter, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of a tall, impossibly beautiful blonde woman on the other side. She was smiling blithely, her head cocked slightly to one side, and her piercing green eyes sent a chill through him.

"C-can I…h-help you?" he stammered, decidedly unsettled by her presence.

"I hope so," she responded in a silky smooth soprano, still smiling unnervingly. "I'm looking for a young woman, about eighteen years old. She's got black hair down to about here-" She tapped a slender finger against her waist, and then paused and looked him straight in the eye. "And skin as green as sin."

"Oh, I know just the one," the manager said eagerly, leaning over the counter in an overly helpful sort of way. "Bit of an odd duck, isn't she? Never saw anything like it, I swear I-"

"Is she here or isn't she?" the woman cut in sharply, abandoning her honey-sweet demeanor with astonishing abruptness.

"Yeah…" The manager shook his head dazedly, disconcerted by her sudden mood change. "Yeah, she's here. I'll just take you upstairs then, shall I?" he offered, his voice turning gruff and businesslike.

Grabbing a lantern from the desk he headed for the stairs and motioned for her to follow him. When they reached the room in question, he inserted the key into the lock and eased the door open silently. "Now, I'll warn you, ma'am, they might not appreciate being woken-"

"_They_?" The woman pressed him against the door and brushed past him impatiently, all pretenses of politeness gone.

But the room was empty. She whirled, her eyes smoldering, and advanced on the suddenly- and rightfully- petrified manager. She seemed to tower over him, her unusual height exaggerated by her fury. "Where. Are. They?" Her voice was low and deceptively calm. "You _will_ tell me this minute, or I will-"

"I swear, I don't know!" the terrified man burst out, trembling as he stumbled backwards into the wall. "They were right in that room the last time I checked."

The woman stared hard at him, and he felt a harsh presence in his mind, as though someone were forcefully extracting information from it. She relaxed after a few seconds, and the pressure eased. She smiled sweetly. "Well, I suppose you'll be more careful in the future." A flash of light, and the man fell dead to the floor. "Or not."

"So," Lamia mused to herself. "The green girl ran away with the Winkie Prince…"

* * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fiyero's gaze settled on Elphaba for what seemed like the millionth time as she nodded off, her head awkwardly positioned against the wall. '_That_ _can't be comfortable…'_ She obviously needed sleep badly if she could get it with her head wedged in a corner.

Knowing he'd probably get a tongue-lashing for it later, he carefully slid her away from her little corner and repositioned her head on his shoulder, wrapping an arm around her to brace her against the bouncing of the carriage. She stirred, and, holding his breath all the while, he drew her closer and slipped his other arm just below the first, trying to coax the sleeping girl into staying where she was. Taking the encouragement, Elphaba turned her face into his shirt with a sigh and continued to sleep.

Fiyero watched her tiny shoulders rise and fall with her slow, steady breaths, and he felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him, along with....something else- fondness, maybe? '_What does that mean?'_

Deciding that he didn't really want to know the answer to that question, Fiyero sighed and racked his brain for something to push those thoughts from his mind. The carriage bounced as they hit a rut in the road, and something heavy slid onto his thigh. He glanced down to find the leather pouch that never left Elphaba's side, the one that he'd been forbidden to look at. What was so special about the old thing? Now that he knew something of the book's significance, he was convinced that he'd missed something important when he'd looked at it before. There had to be some sort of clue as to why she guarded it so fiercely, why this was the one thing she'd attempted to preserve...

His curiosity was too much. Casting one lastpeek at Elphaba, who still slept soundly, he flipped open the pouch and slipped the book out. A chill fell over the carriage as the dust from the ancient tome settled slowly. The falling cloud of dust seemed to bring with it a heaviness, a feeling of strange foreboding that warned him more clearly than anything Elphaba had said that this was not a book to be messed with.

Fiyero laughed at his own superstition. _'Dude, it's a book.'_ Still grinning, he turned a few pages, coughing as more dust swirled around him. Fiyero froze, waiting for Elphaba to wake up and murder him, but miraculously, she merely made a disgruntled sound and slept on. Bending down as far as he could without jostling her, he studied the strange writing that filled the pages. On some pages were pictures, grotesque pictures of people contorted in every sickening way imaginable. "It looks like a....spellbook," he murmured to himself. Elphaba shifted against his shoulder, and he examined her with newfound interest. '_Elphaba is a witch?'_ He should be afraid...but he wasn't. There was apprehension, yes, and intrigue, but not fear. If anything, the knowledge- though it couldn't really be called knowledge, only a wild guess- only served to enhance her mystique. In other words, she'd just become about ten times more appealing.

_'What have I gotten myself into?_'

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They arrived in Emerald City approximately a day and-a-half later. After paying and dismissing the carriage driver, they wandered the streets until they found a respectable-looking hotel. At Elphaba's stubborn insistence that she would not allow him to pay for two rooms, Fiyero rented a single one with two beds- which she was only too happy to allow- and they followed the clerk upstairs.

Tired from their journey, the two took turns changing and then collapsed on their respective beds. Elphaba feigned sleep to avoid any conversation attempts on his part, and set to work planning her escape. She would slip out that night while he slept, and though she cringed at the thought of stealing from him, she would have to take some money for a horse or a carriage. She reasoned that if she stayed, he would spend more on getting her settled anyway, but her insides still twisted uncomfortably. _'Ugh, why was I born with a conscience? It must be nice to be heartless like Frex…'_

"Elphaba?"

Elphaba's eyes flew open in surprise; she'd thought he was asleep. Realizing a moment too late that she'd been caught faking, she groaned and rolled onto her stomach. Fiyero plopped down on the edge of her bed and poked her side lightly. "I knew you were awake," he said smugly.

"What do you want?" she grumbled.

"Elphaba," he whined. "Don't be a grouch. I need to talk to you."

Elphaba sat up grudgingly and glared at him. "It had better be important."

"It _is_ important." Fiyero took a deep breath. Oz, he was nervous. He'd decided that, strange as it seemed, he wasn't ready to sever all contact with Elphaba, regardless of the fact that it would probably be in his best interest to do so. He didn't care what she was; surely if she meant him harm, she would have done something by now. And of course there was the dilemma that every time he tried to think of her as dangerous, he remembered how small and helpless she had been the night he rescued her, and he was undone. "I…I've been thinking, and….Well, first of all, I need to ask you something. Why did you want to come here? I mean, do you have family here or anything?"

Elphaba shook her head. "No. I just…" She was glad she'd invented an answer for that question in advance. "I thought I might like it here- you know, since it's green and all."

"Then there's nothing really holding you here?"

Elphaba tilted her head curiously. "No…no, I suppose there isn't. What's this all about?"

Fiyero shifted uncomfortably, lacing and unlacing his fingers as was his nervous habit. "Well, like I said, I've been thinking, and I was wondering whether…" He looked up at her earnestly then. "Elphaba, I want you to come home with me. And no, I don't mean _live_ with me," he added hastily as her eyes widened. "I just…I have a lot of …influence there, and I could get you a comfortable job, and make sure…make sure you're taken care of." He was careful not to mention that his influence came from his rank as prince, and that the "comfortable job" he could provide would be in the palace. They could have that conversation once she'd said yes. For now, he finished with, "Quite frankly, Elphaba, I'd worry myself sick if I left you here all by yourself."

Elphaba, of course, took everything he said the wrong way. Her eyes flashed. "So you don't think I can take care of myself?"

"No! No," he assured her hurriedly, trying to suppress his frustration. "I do. But still, it'd make me feel better." He had a feeling that wouldn't be enough, so he decided to be honest and expose the rest of the reason. "And also…Well, believe it or not, Elphaba, but I'd miss you."

Elphaba scoffed, and Fiyero took her hands and insisted, "Seriously, I would. Think about it, at least. I mean, I know I could use a friend, and I daresay you could too."

Elphaba bit her lip; that was certainly true. Sorely tempted by his offer, she had to struggle to remember why she couldn't accept. '_Secrecy, remember?'_ the responsible half of her brain nagged. Screw secrecy. '_What if I don't care?'_ the less responsible half challenged. The responsible half fought back. '_It doesn't matter if you care. You're going to say no, and that's the end of it.'_ Elphaba sighed in defeat. "Fiyero, I can't."

"Why not?" he pressed, exasperated. There was never an explanation as to _why _she couldn't do anything- couldn't talk to him, couldn't be friends with him; the list went on and on. But there was never an explanation- just a simple "I can't." It was driving him mad. "Elphaba, what is there for you here?"

"What is there for me there?" she challenged. "I'm perfectly capable of getting a job here, and you'll probably hate me within the month. So tell me one thing worth going for." She knew she was being ungrateful and horrible to him, and it caused a dull ache in her chest, but it was necessary.

Fiyero wasn't going to give up. "You want to know what there is for you there?" he demanded. '_What am I supposed to say? I can't tell her she'd be living in the palace…'_ As he looked into her face during his moment of indecision, he realized something. That protective fondness from the carriage was back, thriving even under the heat of her glare, and it hit him that he _did_ know what it meant. He blinked, surprised at the revelation, but decided to run with it in the hopes that it would be enough to convince her; it was all he had left, at any rate.

'_Lurline, don't let her kill me…_' Fiyero leaned toward her and wet his lips, and when he spoke, his voice was soft but determined. "There's this."

**And you shall have to wait until the next one to find out what "this" is, though I'm pretty sure you can guess:D Reviews do have a funny way of speeding up the writing process, you know….**


	7. Torn

**Disclaimer: Wicked belongs to Greg Maguire and the amazing Stephen Schwartz and Winnie Holzman.**

**I'm sooo giddy right now- I just found out Stephen Schwartz is writing an opera!! It's set to come out in September, and it sounds AMAZING!! Ok, I know that's irrelevant, so I'll stop now. Just thought I'd spread the joy:D**

**Well, I actually made time to sit down and write, thanks to all of you lovely people who reviewed last time. Have I said how much I love you guys? **

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**Chapter Seven: Torn**

"There's this."

Elphaba could only watch with silent apprehension as Fiyero's lips inched nearer to hers. Her mind buzzed frantically, red flags went up…and yet, she was still there, rooted to the spot and unable to move from it.

He stopped when their foreheads met, his lips hovering just over hers, and his warm breath on her lips made her own breath catch. Her eyes flicked up to his, and the last thing that registered in her muddled head was the frightening intensity in their sapphire blue depths. And then he was kissing her, and she couldn't worry, couldn't reason, couldn't _think_- she could only feel. His lips were gentle, but insistent, demanding a response from her in a way that was impossible to resist. So she did the only thing she could do- she kissed him back.

Her response emboldened him, and the mattress creaked as he shifted closer to her, bringing a hand to the back of her neck. He began to deepen the kiss, and she let him, her mixed up emotions spiraling quickly out of control. She could feel them escalating, growing in intensity with each kiss…and that's when the pain began. Pain, because this could not be allowed to go on. Agony, because she would have to be the one to end it. Her mother's words echoed clear as day in her mind: _"Guard your emotions carefully….She will do everything in her power to destroy you and everyone you care about."_

And Elphaba did care- too much. He'd plunged in the knife with this kiss, and with each one following, he drove it deeper, closer to her frozen heart. _'Destroyed.... everyone you care about…the only one I care about…'_

"No!" Elphaba wrenched away from him, shaking violently. She couldn't do this, she couldn't –_wouldn't_- let it happen.

"Elphaba. Elphaba, what's wrong?" Fiyero gripped her upper arms, worry etched in his face. Elphaba shoved him away roughly and stumbled blindly from the bed, unable to see past the spinning in her head and the tears pooling in her eyes. "You have to let me leave," she croaked.

"_What_?" Fiyero crossed the room in three long strides and spun her to face him. "You're not leaving now, you can't just wander off and…and..." Fiyero realized he was shouting, and took a deep breath to calm himself, then asked shortly, "Why? Is it because I kissed you? Because if that wasn't you responding just now, I don't know what it was."

"It was me being surprised and reacting instinctively." Elphaba tried to be convincing, but she couldn't look at him as she said it, pretending instead to be extremely interested in one of the floor boards.

Fiyero lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. They were heartbreakingly, devastatingly beautiful, but the pain in them- pain _she_ was causing- was obvious. The dagger in her chest twisted and seared, making her own pain nearly unbearable.

Fiyero studied her. _'She had to have felt it…' _"Look me in the eye and tell me you felt nothing."

Elphaba opened her mouth to do just that, but found the words wouldn't come. "I…I…"

"You can't, can you?" he asked softly. She didn't reply, but he read the answer loud and clear in her torn expression. His lips sought hers of their own accord, freezing a hair's breadth away. "Elphaba, please," he breathed. She turned her face away, and his heart sank. If she could care about him and still leave, then there was nothing more he could do.

Tears streaked down her cheeks. "Just let me go," she begged in a whisper. "Please." The hand at her cheek dropped to his side in defeat. "Alright. Go." His voice sounded lifeless and pathetic, even to him.

Elphaba allowed herself one last look at him, engraving his beautiful face in her memory as the one person in the world who cared whether she lived or died, and then laid a hand on the doorknob.

"Wait." Elphaba froze, unsure whether she could trust herself to leave if he spoke again. She felt a warm hand encircle hers, and then another, pressing something into her palm. She lowered her eyes to find a large wad of bills clenched in her first- easily twice the amount she'd been prepared to steal from him. The knife gave another excruciating twist, this time from guilt, and her throat constricted.

Before she even knew what she was doing, she'd closed the distance between them and looked up at him solemnly. Very deliberately, she reached a hand up into his hair and gently pulled his head down for a farewell kiss. It was brief, but she poured every bit of her overwhelming gratitude to him into it before releasing him. "Goodbye," she whispered.

Fiyero barely heard the door click shut through his dazed stupor. He stared at the wood, willing it to swing back open and Elphaba to run through it, straight into his arms. But she was gone.

He sank down onto the bed and dropped his head into his hands. What was the matter with him? It's not like he was in _love_ with her; there was an attraction there, certainly, but that shouldn't be enough to make losing her so miserable. How had he become so attached to her in a mere couple of days?

His hands clenched reflexively around fistfuls of hair as he thought about it. What was it about her that drew him to her so strongly? Maybe it was simply because he rescued her; naturally, he'd feel _something_ after that. Or maybe it was that she was the first person he'd ever known who treated him as a _man_- not royalty, not a prince, just your average, run-of-the-mill _man_. She wasn't afraid to yell at him, be rude to him, scold him even if he didn't deserve it, or make him feel stupidly male for the first time in his life. When he was kissing her, he'd felt _alive_- like he was actually _living_ life and not just going through the motions.

'_Stop it, Fiyero. She's not coming back.' _Fiyero heaved a sigh and got to his feet. It was time to go home.

_Home._ The thought filled him with dread. He'd be going back to superficial parties full of superficial girls who cared for nothing but his rank and his money. Back to drudging through day after day alone- living, but…not.

"You know what?" he said aloud. "Maybe I don't want to go home. Maybe I _won't_."

A flash of lightning lit up the room, and Fiyero crossed to the window and leaned heavily on the sill, squinting out into the pouring rain. _'Elphaba.'_

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Elphaba ran and ran. She didn't know where to –she didn't _care_- just that she had to get away. She ducked clumsily under the arch of a small cathedral, the only available shelter from the downpour, and collapsed weakly onto the doorstep. She drew her knees tightly to her chest and buried her face in them, violent sobs racking her body.

She cried for what felt like hours, and when the last of her sobs died down, she continued to shake; whether from the cold or sheer emotion, she didn't know. When she finally felt under control, she pulled the money he'd given her from the pouch at her waist. There was so much….How could he afford to give her that? Elphaba rested her head against the door of the chapel and allowed herself to remember. It had been so wonderful….

But no. If she thought like that, she'd turn right around and run straight back to the hotel. Sweeping her dripping hair away from her face, Elphaba stuffed the money back in her satchel and dragged herself to her feet. It was time to find a horse, and escape this town as quickly as he could carry her.

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**I know it's kinda short, but....review?**


	8. Escape

**Disclaimer: You know the drill- I own nothing.**

**I wasn't happy with how this one turned out, so I rewrote a part of it and reposted. I'm still not thrilled with it, but I like it a little better now, I think.**

* * *

Elphaba slipped swiftly and silently through the streets of the sleeping town, the blackness and the rain providing a protective blanket of sorts that enabled her to move about freely. It also served to disguise her odd skin color enough that she could pass for a rather sickly, but still normal, person. Or so she hoped.

Just as she was about to abandon hope of finding a stable before she either froze solid in the rain or dropped dead from exhaustion, a strong breeze swirled around her from behind, and on it she caught the familiar and welcome scent of hay mingled with horse manure. Elphaba immediately began to retrace her steps, back-tracking a full couple of streets before spotting it- a small stable sporting a large "horses for sale" sign.

Elphaba kicked herself mentally; of course she would have to _buy _one. It wasn't as though she'd be able to return it, even if the owner was willing to rent. Buying would hardly be the best use of her money, but Fiyero had given her so much that- '_No. Don't think about Fiyero.'_

She approached the door and knocked on the rough would as briskly as her numb arm could manage, and then stepped back to wait, shivering as violently as ever. _'I must be a sight- drenched to the bone and knees knocking together like a pathetic-'_

The door swung open to reveal a rough-looking, pot-bellied man with a half-empty bottle in one hand. He took a clumsy swig from the bottle, swiping the back of his arm across his mouth to remove the beer that trickled down his bristly chin. He looked at Elphaba contemptuously and grunted, "What d'you want?"

Elphaba eyed the man with barely-concealed disgust, and it took her a moment to remember why she'd come. "I-I n-need a horse." Her chattering teeth made it impossible to speak without stuttering, much to her irritation.

He stared at her stupidly for a moment, and then a strange smile spread across his face. Somehow it was more unsettling that his scowl had been. "Alright, then." He motioned with the beer bottle for her to follow him, splashing her with its contents in the process, and she wrinkled her nose distastefully but obeyed without a word. She jumped when the door banged shut behind her. The sound seemed to ring with a frightening finality, and sense of foreboding enveloped her as she turned from the door and followed the man through a damp, dark hallway.

They entered the equally dark stable, and he waved an arm carelessly at the row of stalls. "There they are. Take your pick." His beady eyes never left her, and she shivered at the eerie glint in them, a glint that the darkness couldn't quite conceal. It was almost…maniacal, and Elphaba longed for the door once again.

Unwilling to turn her back to him, she glanced quickly down the row of stalls and pointed to the first black one she saw- black, to blend in with the night. "I'll t-take that one."

The man walked slowly to the horse's stall, still watching her with entirely too much interest, and she had to work hard to keep her expression unaffected. He thrust the reins toward her, then snatched them back as she reached for them, an ugly grin curling his lips. "Nope. Not without payin'."

Elphaba deliberated whether she could trust him to actually give her the horse after she paid. It wasn't likely, she knew, but she didn't exactly have another option. "How much?"

"Ninety-five."

Elphaba's jaw dropped. "That's ridiculous! He's not worth a bit over fifty."

"Is that so?"

Elphabab attempted to discreetly remove her hand from the pouch, but he caught her wrist roughly and jerked it back out. Keeping her fist clenched tightly around the wad of bills, she struggled to free herself. "Let….go…." she ordered breathlessly through gritted teeth as she twisted and pulled to no avail.

The man kept an iron grip on her wrist, and used it to drag her forward until their faces were only inches apart. "I'd let go if I were you," he told her softly.

Elphaba gave a defiant yank, and the anger that flashed in his eyes was the only warning she received before his fist collided with the side of her face. Stunned by the blow, she started to fall, and his hold on her arm threw him off balance as well. The two of them tumbled to the ground with a thud, and Elphaba cried out as he landed heavily on her ankle.

Somehow, she managed to retain her grip on the money, but she was momentarily blinded by the cloud of straw and dust that billowed up around them. He recovered before she did, and she barely managed to roll out of the way in time to avoid the next punch he aimed at her. She vaguely registered him cursing as his knuckles smashed into the floor.

Gasping, Elphaba latched onto the nearest stall and pulled herself laboriously to her feet, spitting blood from her mouth. She took a deep breath to brace herself against the pain in her ankle, and began to run, willing the injured joint not to give out.

But as she neared the horse and reached for the saddle, a hand caught her from behind, and she was jerked up against the man's filthy body, with one arm twisted sharply behind her. "Give me the money."

"No," she panted, and she whimpered as her arm was twisted further.

"Now!" he hissed.

A searing pain shot through her arm as he increased the pressure slightly, and her lips began to move subconsciously, forming commands in the ancient language. "Ich rufen der wind….machen ein zyklon umkreisen uns. Nehmen ihm entfernt…" Spots erupted across her vision as he pressed harder. "Now!" she gasped out.

The air in the stable began to change. At first it was only a light breeze, but as she resumed chanting, it began to gain speed. Clumps of hay and dirt became airborn as the breeze circled faster, and soon the room was filled with the roar of a great wind as it circled around them again and again, a cyclone of straw and debris.

"What are you doing, you filthy little witch?" The man shook her angrily, making her shriek as her arm was forced farther up behind her. But the cyclone continued to spin faster, and he soon relinquished his hold on her, instinctively raising his arms to shield his eyes, and Elphaba crouched and buried her head in her knees, clamping her hands over her ears to block out the deafening noise. She could hear the crashing of heavy objects being thrown as the monstrous wind continued to rage around her- and then, all of the sudden, it stopped.

Coughing to rid her lungs of the buckets of dust she'd just inhaled, Elphaba peered around the suddenly silent stable. The man was slumped lifelessly against the far wall, clearly unconscious, with a trickle of blood staining his cheek.

Elphaba didn't waste a moment. She dived for the reins of the horse as it panicked, and held on for dear life. Finally, it stopped trying to escape, and she stroked the side of his face until he calmed. She noticed what seemed to be writing on his saddle, and squinted closer. "Halomar", it said. '_Must be his name.'_

Elphaba tentatively limped closer, and when the animal didn't flinch, she slipped her arms around his neck and leaned her face into his mane, trying to hold back a fresh wave of tears. "Fiyero was right," she mumbled miserably, trying and failing to slow her ragged breathing. "No one should be out here alone." The horse whinnied softly, and Elphaba raised her head, wiping her cheeks with shaking fingers.

"Shh, Halomar…" She patted the horse's nose. "We have to get out of here." Elphaba swung herself into the saddle, and leaned low over his neck. "Ride fast," she whispered, then spurred the horse into a gallop.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fiyero tossed and turned in his sleep. He was dreaming of Elphaba. She was staggering at a frantic pace through some forest, weeping. He watched as she crumpled to her knees, gripping her head fiercely in her hands as though to wrench out some painful thought....or memory. He tried to go to her, but she was just out of his reach. All he could do was watch as she suffered, clearly in unbearable agony.

Fiyero jolted awake. His pillow and shirt were soaked with sweat, and his pounded an erratic rhythm against his chest. Vaulting out of bed, he crossed to the nightstand and plunged his head into the bowl of water that the maid had brought earlier. After nearly a minute, he straightened, gasping for breath. He pushed the mop of dripping hair back from his forehead and leaned heavily on the nightstand, gripping the wood tightly. There was something wrong with this- with him letting her go, willingly relinquishing any control he'd had over her safety. He'd been told frequently as a child that he was the most incurably stubborn boy in the Vinkus, and that tendency had not subside with age. So why was he giving up now? '_I've got to find her. I don't care what she wants, I've got to find her.' _

He reached for his coat, but thought better of it. There'd be no finding her in the dark, in a city that he didn't know. He would have to wait until morning. Surely she wouldn't go too far, right?

Holding onto that thought, that small sliver of hope, he lay down and attempted to sleep. It took hours, but finally his troubled mind shut down.

He dreamed of her again. He dreamed of holding her, kissing her for hours on end, without whatever it was that was bothering her getting in the way. It was amazing how quickly he'd settled into the idea of them being together; nothing seemed more natural to him now.

And then the dream began to change. The cozy scene he'd envisioned morphed into a filthy, pitch-black stable. A greasy man held her from behind as she muttered something he couldn't understand, a look of obvious pain on her beautiful face.

Again, he could do nothing. He watched as beams of light exploded in a sort of halo around her, throwing the men across the room. He watched as she buried her face in a horse's mane and cried, and he longed to provide her with a better source of comfort. But he could do nothing.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lamia arrived in the Emerald City in the early hours of the morning, while everyone else still slept. '_Perfect.' _She would be undisturbed as she went about her business.

She'd checked every town she'd passed through over the last two days for the man she'd seen during the fire, and so far had found nothing. Just as she'd done in every previous town, she checked the hotels first. She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind to locate the various buildings, and then painstakingly probed into the minds of each one's occupants, searching for a familiar consciousness. An endless line of faces swam through her mind's eye, none of which even vaguely resembled the young prince.

Lamia had to suppress a shrike of frustration. Where was he? She delved renewed vigor into her search, and the faces flew by twice as quickly as before. So quickly that she almost missed it- but there it was. The same handsome, twenty-year-old face that had thwarted her plans that night.

He was sleeping, fitfully if his expression was anything to go by. Lamia dug deeper, forcing her magic through the protective barrier of his mind. The barrier was surprisingly solid, difficult to break- unlike the inn keeper's- and she found it impossible to get a clear reading. All she could make out were blurred images, and she concentrated with all of her strength to bring them into focus.

It was the girl. He was dreaming of her.

Lamia released the spell, satisfied. Everything was as she'd suspected. Now all she had to do was follow him. She chuckled gleefully. "This really is too easy….."

* * *

**Oh, and as a side note, I'm pretty much positive that my German is very wrong. But, like I said, I can't make up languages, so I'm just gonna keep piecing it together the best I can. Sorry if anybody here speaks it and it bugs you=(**


	9. Storm

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to say it again? Not mine.**

**Soooo sorry about the ridiculously long wait…yes, I know I say that every time. But I mean it this time, and I'm going to drop my other story for a while so I have time for this one. I just started working, and we all know how that ups the craziness level:D But I'll try harder, really I will.**

**Ok, so I know Glinda's part here isn't very exciting, but I need it there to set up a few plot twists that just popped into my head today. So bear with me:P**

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews, btw.**

* * *

Glinda Upland let out an irritated sigh, rolling her crystal blue eyes up toward the ornate ballroom ceiling. She didn't care how rude she was being; this man would _not shut up_. Never mind that the two of them barely qualified as acquaintances, having known each other a grand total of three minutes, this man felt the need to fill her in on every insignificant detail of his life as they waltzed across the marble floor. No doubt that was due to her mother's relentless advertising of Glinda's current single status, regardless of her promise to keep her mouth shut until her daughter's…situation was resolved.

'_Oh, I wish Yero were here,'_ Glinda thought wistfully. His blasted father was always sending him on these forever-long errands. That man never ceased to baffle her; he was constantly pushing for her and the prince to get married, and yet he refused to allow Fiyero to remain at home long enough for Glinda to warm him up to the idea. Suffice it to say that, at present, Fiyero was less than thrilled with his parents' little scheme.

Glinda sighed again. _That _was the understatement of the century. Fiyero had made his distaste for the idea blatantly obvious. If she was completely honest with herself, she could understand his reluctance. To everyone involved, it was a match of convenience- something like a business arrangement, she supposed, with money rather than love being the determining factor. She knew this was how Fiyero saw it, and she'd even go so far as to say that she really couldn't blame him for his distrust of her motives; after all, only_ every_ other girl in the kingdom was after his money.

But she was different. There was one little part of this messy, uncomfortable equation that only Glinda was aware of- and that was that she loved him. She really, truly _loved_ him.

Glinda was jolted from her troubled thoughts by the end of the dance. Absently, she joined in the applause, and offered her partner a tight-lipped smile that bordered on uncivil, before drifting away off the dance floor.

Glinda scanned the small clusters of people stationed throughout the large, gold-plated room, searching for her mother's artificially blonde curls. She smirked as she spotted the familiar platinum head, contrasting starkly with the older woman's deep emerald green dress. Her mother flat-out refused to accept that grey hair at age fifty was perfectly common, and insisted on regularly bleaching it in a sad attempt to maintain its original color. '_Makes her easy to locate, at least.'_

As Glinda approached the circle of elaborately dressed women that surrounded her mother, she felt a sudden flare of annoyance. It was _their_ fault Fiyero didn't trust her, she decided. It was their fault for creating the 'society girl' stereotype that Glinda had been molded to for as long as she could remember.

In all fairness, it could be said that she was one of them; she participated in their little parties willingly enough, dressed with the best of them, and in all outer respects was the perfect debutante. One could even say that she enjoyed it; it was no secret that Glinda Upland was uncommonly beautiful and well-loved, and that she had no qualms about being so.

But what she did not enjoy was the superficiality that thrived even underneath these women's painted exteriors. Parties were all well and good, as long as there was something sturdier to fall back on. And that was just the problem- there wasn't. These women dreamed of money, of larger and fancier ballgowns. Glinda dreamed of love.

She was met with a chorus of simpering greetings- "Ah, Glinda, darling!"- when she reached her mother's side, but for once, Glinda decided not to do the proper thing. She looked right past their fake smiles and said curtly, "Mother, can we talk? Outside?"

Lady Upland blinked a couple of times, astonished at her daughter's less-than-charming behavior, before pasting on a thin smile and replying, "Of course, precious."

Glinda ignored the indignant murmurs of her mother's friends as she swept imperiously out of the room, her mother trailing close behind. Ever the elegant noblewoman, her mother continued to wave and smile politely at acquaintances until they were out of sight. As soon as they passed through the double doors and around the corner, Lady Upland planted her hands on her hips and demanded, "Glinda Marie Upland, how could you? How _dare_ you embarrass me like that?"

"How dare _I_??" Whipping off her delicately beaded mask, Glinda whirled on her mother, who flinched reflexively. "No, mother, how dare _you_. I have danced with no less than twenty perfectly rich, perfectly snobbish, and perfectly _boring_ men tonight, half of whom were old enough to be my father, and why? Because _you_ went behind my back and informed everyone in the kingdom that I am single and eligible, when you _know_ that Fiyero and I-"

"Now, Glinda, dear, let's be reasonable," her mother pleaded. "It never hurts to keep one's options open, especially since you and Fiyero are…well…." She twisted her fingers nervously in the folds of her voluminous skirt, afraid to go on.

Glinda deflated visibly. "You too?" she asked tiredly.

Lady Upland reddened. "Well, darling, it's becoming fairly clear that Fiyero...well, that nothing's going to come of-"

"No!" Glinda said viciously, suddenly furious. "He'll come around. I will _make_ him love me."

With that, she spun on her heel and stalked away, leaving her baffled mother alone in the hallway. If there was one thing that Glinda's privileged upbringing had taught her, it was that so long as a girl utilized her assets, there was _always_ a way to get what she wanted.

This would be no exception.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Half-frozen raindrops whipped across Elphaba's cheeks, stinging and occasionally biting into the skin, leaving small slash marks behind. She clung to Halomar's reigns with hands so numb that they almost refused to hold on.

A strange roaring sound was barely discernable over the howling wind, and she swiveled her head about, trying to locate the sound. She didn't discover its source until it was almost too late.

"Halomar!" she shrieked, reigning the horse in hard. He reared onto his back legs, letting out a shrill whinny, and somehow Elphaba managed to hold on. As the frightened horse finally settled onto four legs, Elphaba examined the sight before her in disbelief.

A massive river gushed along in front of them, completely obliterating the road. The small bridge that had once crossed what had previously been a calm stream had been smashed to pieces, and shattered chunks of wood lay scattered along the banks of the newly formed river.

Elphaba had been well aware of the dangers of flooding, but _this_…how was she to get around this?Images from her childhood flashed through her mind- memories of her nearly drowning while Frex looked on idly. She shuddered. _'Focus'._ Summoning the last remaining vestiges of her usually calm demeanor, Elphaba closed her eyes and recalled a direction spell she'd used once or twice before. Surely there was another way to the Vinkus.

Squinting against the downpour, Elphaba peered up into the thick mass of storm clouds overhead. With a flick of her finger, a small clump of the swirling moisture detached itself and began to float down to her. She twirled her finger in a small circle in the air, and by the time the bit of cloud settled just above her upturned palm, it had spun itself into a smoky black orb.

"Vorausgehen," Elphaba whispered, and the substance glowed a dim white. She blew on it lightly, and the glowing sphere began to move forward. She watched intently, waiting for it to veer off in one direction or the other, showing her a way around this catastrophe.

To her dismay, it merely continued forward across the raging river, its light growing fainter and fainter until it disappeared altogether. "No," she hissed furiously, growing both frightened and frustrated. "There _has_ to be another way."

Elphaba summoned two more puffs of cloud, becoming frantic as each of them in turn crossed the river and vanished into the blackness on the other side. An intense feeling of dread bore down on her as she slowly turned her gaze upon the mass of rushing water before her.

As she watched, one of the many bits of tree branches and debris being tossed on the waves was dashed violently against a large boulder that protruded from the surface. It splintered into tiny pieces, which were immediately swept away with the current. Elphaba's head reeled as she imagined herself meeting the same end as that log.

Shoving that thought out of her head, and attempting to ignore the knots in her stomach, Elphaba straightened proudly and urged Halomar forward. She would _not_ be intimidated by _water_, of all things.

The horse was reluctant, and he began to toss his head in fright as they reached to the water's edge. The terrified animal tried to back away, but Elphaba persisted. She dug her heels into his side, and fought to control the tremor in her own voice as she commanded, "Forward, Halomar. Now!"

Elphaba's heart began to pound as he complied, and she held her breath as he stepped nervously into the river- first one foot, then another, until finally he stood knee-deep in the water.

Even from atop his back, Elphaba could feel how strongly the current beat against his legs, and the horse whinnied in protest. But his complaint went unheeded by the ruthless torrent; the pull only became stronger the deeper they went.

For one brief instant, halfway through the swirling body of water, Halomar lost his footing. Elphaba shrieked as the water surged up to her knees, and she clung desperately to the horse's neck as he fought to right himself.

Miraculously, they were soon stable again, and Elphaba buried her face in Halomar's dripping mane with a moan as he pressed forward once more. When she finally brought herself to look up, they were a mere two feet from the bank. Squeezing her eyes shut briefly in relief, Elphaba leaned forward and murmured, "Come on, Halomar. Almost there."

The storm had worsened since they'd left the opposite bank, and Elphaba realized that there was no way that the horse could hear her. Even so, he seemed to understand that the worst was over, and began to push against the current with increased eagerness.

Just then, completely without warning, an enormous bolt of lightning shot down not three feet from them, striking a tree on the shore. Halomar reared, and as hard as she tried to hold on, there was not a single handhold that wasn't impossibly slick from the rain. Her euphoria at being so near safety quickly evaporated as she realized she was falling. Groping wildly, but encountering nothing but air, Elphaba's last thought before her back met a wall of frigid water was, '_I wish I knew how to swim.'_


	10. Chase

**Disclaimer: *bows down and worships Stephen Schwartz* Now, would I do that if it was mine?**

**Hmm, I seem to be losing some of you….but I'm still having fun, so that's ok. Last week I told eppie that I'd try to post again by the end of the week, and obviously I didn't make it, but I'm pretty darn proud of myself for only being a couple of days lateXD**

* * *

Elphaba woke to a gentle breeze on her face. She opened her eyes groggily, wincing as the small movement caused the skin just below her right eyebrow to throb painfully. She pressed two fingers gingerly to her eyelid, expecting to find a knot or perhaps a scrape.

What she didn't expect to find was a large amount of what could only be blood. She followed the sticky trail downward from the gash on her brow bone, across her cheek to where it matted the hair around her ear.

'_Well,'_ she told herself with a grimace, _'I've had worse._' Frex- being the fine, upstanding father that he was- made this seem like nothing.

Not particularly concerned with her injury, Elphaba felt along her hip anxiously, letting out a relieved breath when her fingers met with familiar worn leather. Once she was satisfied that both the pouch and its contents were still there, she curled into a ball with a groan and squeezed her eyes shut. As far as she could tell, there wasn't a single inch of her body that didn't ache.

The warm breeze on her face came again, and her eyes flew open. Once her vision had focused, she became suddenly aware of four large hooves planted right next to her head. Craning her neck, she looked up at the familiar, midnight-black horse in amazement. She reached an arm up weakly to stroke his face. "You came back," she mumbled. "Thank you." Halomar blew a puff of air at her, as if to say, "Did you honestly think I wouldn't?"

Still a bit disoriented, Elphaba pushed herself into a sitting position, locating several more sore spots in the process. She did a quick inventory of the rest of her body, checking for anything concern-worthy. Thankfully, other than a pounding headache and several large bruises, she seemed to be alright. Except…."Why can't I feel my feet?"

Elphaba stared down at her heavy-duty boots and realized that they were sopping wet still, and half-frozen, not to mention covered with mud and grime. She tugged them off impatiently and set to work on unthawing her feet.

When she was finally able to move her toes, Elphaba eyed the river near her feet warily. The storm had died down, and it looked deceptively non-threatening in its stillness. Had she not, by some miraculous twist of fate, been washed ashore, she'd be frozen solid at its bottom right now- just another rock in the riverbed.

Shivering in her still-wet clothing, she turned away from the river and hauled herself to her feet. Her body seemed to groan with the effort, but somehow she managed to get a foot in the stirrup and swing herself onto Halomar's back.

A sudden fit of hacking coughs overtook her, and she had to grip the reigns tightly to keep from falling. When the coughing subsided, she slumped forward onto the horse's neck, closed her eyes and told him the same thing that had nearly gotten her killed the night before: "Forward, Halomar. Forward."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Three days of almost non-stop riding later, Elphaba arrived at the gates of the Vinkan palace, half-starved and barely able to breathe. The coughing fits had become more frequent, and she was beginning to get the feeling that something was terribly wrong- no doubt a result of her time spent in the icy river on an already chilly night. She only hoped that she could find work at the palace; after all she'd made it through thus far, it seemed a waste to die of starvation.

Once at the gate, Elphaba fumbled clumsily through her pouch for money, still lying weakly on Halomar's neck. She didn't expect to be admitted without persuasion of some sort, seeing as she was quite obviously a foreigner, and she didn't have the energy to argue.

The guard took the money she offered without question, and then studied her briefly. Apparently deciding that she was too sick to be dangerous, he called for the gate to be opened, and the enormous wrought-iron doors swung forward with an ear-grating screech of metal against metal.

The guard slapped the horse lightly on the rump, and Halomar gave a weak snort of indignation before plodding on through the gate. He trembled with obvious exhaustion, and Elphaba tightened her arms around his neck, feeling guilty for pushing him so hard. "Just a few more minutes," she told him hoarsely. "I'll have you taken care of, I promise."

Her words were punctuated by a round of dry, heaving coughs. Her palm felt strangely wet when she pulled it away afterward, and she lifted it curiously to her eyes.

Blood. Her stomach turned, but there was nothing there to come up.

"Um, Miss?" Elphaba jerked in surprise as she felt a hand on her shoulder. A man dressed as a butler stood near her horse. "Do you have an audience with their Majesties?"

Elphaba managed a faint nod. _'Better to ask forgiveness than permission.' _

"Alright, then. You're going to need to get down off of your horse and follow me."

Elphaba braced herself; she'd been dreading this moment. She sat up with difficulty, and then slowly began to slide her left leg over the saddle. Her arms shook with the effort of supporting her own weight, and the butler caught her just as they gave out. "Miss, are you quite alright?" He sounded anxious, though she was sure it was more out of impatience than concern

With his help, she slid to the ground, but the jolt as her feet hit the earth set her head spinning. The castle loomed in and out of her vision, and she swayed for a few seconds when the butler released her, and then crumpled into an unconscious heap at his feet.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fiyero climbed resignedly into his carriage about a week after Elphaba ran off. He'd combed the city for her for three days straight and found nothing. He'd questioned the guards of nearly every road out of town, and even questioned random people in each surrounding village when the guards knew nothing. But after three days of dragging himself through the mud with no luck, it seemed useless to keep searching.

From there, he'd simply stalled for as long as he could, trying to put off the inevitable return to the Vinkus; he'd gone from entertainment to entertainment, until all that was left was to drink, which he wasn't inclined to do. That's when he'd decided to be a real man and face up to his problems- that is, he'd decided to go home.

At the forefront of these problems was- he shuddered to think it- _Glinda_. The little blonde creampuff with a not-so-hidden agenda was at the head of a virtual army of filthy rich debutantes vying for his attention. By society's standards, she was disgustingly perfect: tiny, beautiful, winsome…..and a good actress. He snorted. She put on a very convincing show, trying to make him think that she actually cared about _him_ rather than his pocketbook. Sometimes he almost believed her.

But he knew better; he'd learned that lesson a long time ago.

The carriage bumped along the pothole-ridden road, and Fiyero got the strangest feeling that someone was watching him. He swung his head out of the window to scan the road behind him- empty. But when he sat back down, there it was again- the distinct, unmistakable sensation of eyes boring into his back.

A cool breeze blew through the carriage, and he shivered- but not from the cold. He could have sworn he'd heard an eerie laugh echoing softly on the wind as it rustled past him. He rubbed his hands up and down his forearms to rid them of goose bumps that he was embarrassed to acknowledge. "Wonderful," he muttered. "Now I'm going crazy."

But he couldn't shake the feeling that _someone_ was following him.

"Whoa!" The carriage rolled to an abrupt stop, and Fiyero poked his head out the window a second time. "What's going on?" he called up to the driver.

He saw the problem before the man answered. They'd stopped a few yards from a small stream- with no bridge. He hopped out of the carriage and strode to the water's edge. "What happened here?"

"I'm guessing it was that storm a few days back," the driver replied gruffly, absently gnawing on a long piece of grass. "We get 'em a lot around here, and they'll occasionally blow out a bridge. There should've been one a few yards over that way." He jerked his head to the right. "We're gonna have to go east- take the long way around. And I do mean _long_."

Fiyero wasn't listening. A tree branch sticking up from the surface had caught his eye as he silently observed the quiet stream. A scrap of black fabric clung to it, fluttering gently in the breeze. "What's that?" He pointed to the opposite bank, squinting against the sunlight. There was something there, a few yards downstream. It looked like- he squinted harder- a pair of boots. And not just any boots- very familiar brown, lace-up boots….

"Impossible…" But of course it wasn't, he realized excitedly. She had to go somewhere, right? His mind raced with the possibility. This _was_ the only way out of town that he hadn't checked…

Without wasting another second, he marched into the water and began to push his way across. The flooding had gone down considerably, so it wasn't difficult. When he reached the opposite bank, he dropped to his knees and picked up one of the shoes. He inspected it carefully, from the knee-high top to the clunky, smoke-blackened heel. He traced the tell-tale charred patterns in the leather- tokens of the fire that had nearly taken both of their lives. "Elphaba…."

Something else occurred to him then. He glanced over his shoulder at the shred of black in the middle of the river- her dress? On turning back to the boots in his hand, Fiyero's stomach dropped. The dirt beneath his fingers was stained red. '_She's hurt. Or…'_ His thoughts returned again to the bit of her dress on that tree branch, this time accompanied by panic instead of excitement. Dead?

'_No_,' he told himself firmly. _'If her shoes made it over here, then so did she_.' Fiyero got down on all fours, ready to inspect every millimeter of dirt from there to the Vinkus. He didn't have to look far; there it was- a faded, barely visible footprint. And then another, and then…hoof prints?

"Of course," he murmured excitedly. "She got a horse. And then they went…." He traced the footprints in the exact direction that he himself had been heading. "The Vinkus?" Dazed, Fiyero sat back on his heels and stared up into the sky. "Lurline, if she's gone to the Vinkus, I swear I'll never be rude to Glinda again for as long as I live."

Fiyero knew his chances of finding her were next to nothing, but a guy could hope, right? With a newfound energy, he leapt to his feet and bounded back to his carriage, arms swinging vigorously as he forced his way through the waist-deep water.

"Hakim, get in the carriage!" he ordered. The confused driver watched as the prince sprang into the driver's seat and took the reigns. "Now!" Fiyero bellowed, and Hakim scrambled to obey. He barely had time to close the carriage door behind him before Fiyero whipped the horses into action and wheeled them around. '_Please be there, please be there….'_

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fiyero drove like a madman all the way to the Vinkus, cutting their travel time nearly in half. Barely more than two days later, he stormed into the castle, oblivious to the sweat and dust that thoroughly caked his clothing.

"Mother!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Mother, I need- oh, there you are."

The queen came briskly around the corner into the entryway, her expression worried. "Son? What's the matter? Why are you home so late? Did you-"

Fiyero held up a hand, and the barrage of inquiries ceased. "No questions, please. I need you to send out a search party."

Helena's forehead creased. "What? Why? Can't it wait?"

"No, it can't wait. It is imperative that I find her- now."

"Find who?"

"A girl. She's got emerald green skin, black hair-"

His mother's eyes widened. "Green skin, did you say?"

"Yes." Fiyero glared. "And stop thinking what I know you're thinking. She's beautiful, and I'm in love with her." _'Wait. I'm in __**love**__ with her?'_

"Not, that's- that's not it." The queen's voice was a shocked whisper. "Oh, Fiyero…"

Something in her tone made him afraid. "Wait, is…is something going on here that I don't know about?"

Helena opened and closed her mouth several times, but nothing came out. "Follow me," she said finally. Her skirts swished noisily in the otherwise silent hallway as she turned and started swiftly away. Fiyero followed, feeling a chill creep over him at his mother's obvious anxiety.

She led him to one of the palace's many guest bedrooms, and then gestured wordlessly toward the door. Fiyero set a hand on the doorknob and wet his lips nervously. "Mother….who's in here?"

"Just go in, Fiyero." Fiyero shot her a worried glance, but obediently pushed the door open.

And then he took a deep breath and looked inside- and his heart dropped to his feet. It was her.

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**Let me know if you guys are still out there, k?**


	11. Envy

**Disclaimer: Same as always.**

**OH MY GOSH! I cannot tell you guys how happy all the reviews made me!! Thanks so much!!**

**And now I feel guilty for not updating sooner- as always. It's really a never-ending cycle, isn't it? I tried, honestly- I was even writing on napkins between bussing tables at work. Actually, I think this whole chapter was written on napkins, because I never have time to write at home:D But here it is, finally. **

* * *

Fiyero stood frozen in shock. The fragile girl lying in- or, more accurately, being swallowed by- the elaborate guest bed was a mere shadow of the Elphaba he remembered. Her skin was no longer a vibrant emerald, but rather a pale, sickly green. She'd lost weight, making her already defined features sharper than usual. Her chest rose and fell quickly with her shallow breaths, and each one was accompanied by a slight wheezing sound.

His heartbeat thudded in his ears as he approached her bedside and knelt. He took one of her hands gently in his own and stroked his thumb over her clammy skin. It would have been better if she were burning up; at least then he'd know that her body was fighting back. But the cool, lifeless feel of her skin made it seem as though she'd already surrendered, and that death was working its icy claws into her even as she lay there, struggling to breathe.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked finally.

"It's a rare form of pneumonia," his mother said softly. "In addition to having trouble breathing, she's been throwing up, coughing up blood….And the doctors, they....it doesn't look good, Fiyero."

"She's _not _going to die," Fiyero said fiercely, whipping his head around to glare at her. There were tears glistening on his cheeks, and his voice broke as he continued, "She _can't_."

Helena had always been the most understanding about Fiyero's situation. She had married his father as part of a contract made when they were very young, and she had long had a secret wish that her only son would not be forced to do the same. So she decided then and there that if Fiyero truly cared for this girl, she would do all in her power to see the two of them together.

She moved to kneel beside him, and stroked his hair as he bent over the sleeping girl. "I hope she makes it," she murmured. "For your sake, I truly hope she does."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Elphaba."

Elphaba wondered dully who could be calling her, but the curiosity was fleeting. Then it came again, more persistently. "Come on, Elphaba."

Death, maybe? '_If it's death, I'll go willingly.'_ A lazy smile graced her cracked lips. "I'm coming," she tried to reply, but her lips wouldn't seem to move. She could see the light; it shimmered beyond her closed eyelids, and she welcomed it.

"Elphaba, please. Please wake up." Something jostled her shoulder lightly, and she squeezed her eyes shut as the light grew brighter. "Too bright," she mumbled, trying half-heartedly to turn away. But whoever it was kept shaking her. "Alright, alright…."

It took her a moment to unglue her eyelids. She blinked rapidly as her eyes were assaulted by the light of an oil lamp, which was being held over her face by none other than a very anxious-

All the air rushed out of her. "You." She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry in frustration; fortunately, she was spared the decision by the fact that she was too weak to do either.

"Yes, me," Fiyero said bleakly. "Elphaba…." He sighed. "Tell me honestly- are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?" Elphaba remained very still as he reached for her small hand and enfolded it in his own once again.

"What-" She was cut off by a round of violent coughing. She tried again. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?" Her voice was a dry rasp, with none of the hypnotic velvet quality it had possessed before.

"I…" Fiyero contemplated whether or not to tell her, but quickly decided against it; it seemed very possible that if he did, her desire to throttle him would overcome her sickness. "That's not important. I'm here to take care of you, Elphie."

"Elphie?"

Fiyero blinked. "I have no idea where that came from." Then, anxiously, "Do you mind?"

One shoulder rose weakly in an indifferent shrug, and one corner of her chapped mouth turned up. "It's better than some of the things Frex used to call me."

Fiyero arched an eyebrow. "High praise indeed." She smiled again, even as her eyelids began to droop. Fiyero sighed heavily. "Oh, Elphie…" He smoothed her sweaty hair back off her forehead as she let her eyes close and drifted back into a restless sleep.

* * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fiyero woke a few days later to find Elphaba watching him. He lifted his head from the back of his chair, only to wince as he was greeted by the worst crick in the neck he'd had in years.

Massaging his neck with one hand, he returned his attention to Elphaba, who was smirking at him. "You think that's funny, do you?" he demanded, but he smiled to let her know he was teasing.

She nodded.

"Oh? Well, we'll see if you think it's funny when I refuse to let you out of bed at all today." She made a face, and Fiyero grinned. "Didn't think you'd like that."

The doctor had given strict instructions that Elphaba was not to be allowed out of bed for more than twenty minutes each day, no matter how much she protested. And true to Fiyero's prediction, she protested a lot. It seemed like every minute she was awake, she was pestering him to let her go outside, regardless of the fact that she couldn't even stand without support. When that didn't work, she'd resorted to sending him on errands so that she could try to sneak out. Thankfully, he'd returned to the bedroom on her second attempt to find her collapsed on the floor a few feet from the bed, and had since refused to leave the room again unless his mother would stand guard. Now, with Fiyero by her side at all times, there really wasn't much she could do to evade the doctor's orders. Still, she never missed a chance to let him know exactly what she thought of his "mollycoddling".

Fiyero's playful mood began to evaporate as he looked at her. She looked worse today, and as much as he tried to joke to ease the tension, there was no escape from the fear that gripped him whenever he allowed himself to think about how this illness might end.

"How do you feel today?" he asked softly, knowing before she opened her mouth what answer he'd get; it was the same one every morning.

"Better." But he knew she was lying. As if to prove him right, she erupted into one of her frequent coughing fits. Fiyero reacted instinctively. He seized the dishtowel he kept nearby and tugged her hand from her mouth, replacing it with the towel. She clutched it tightly in her clenched fist, and Fiyero rested a soothing hand on her back.

When she was finished, he took the red-spotted towel and placed it on the nightstand by the bed, trying not to look at it. He gently wiped a drop of blood from her lip, and she relaxed against the headboard as if nothing had happened. He wanted to shake her, to ask her why she insisted on pretending to be fine when she so obviously wasn't. But, as always, he kept his mouth shut.

It was Elphaba who spoke next. "Fiyero, something's been bothering me lately." Her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper from the coughing, and he wordlessly handed her a glass of water from the nightstand. When she had drained it and given it back to him, she leveled a serious gaze on him and said, "Fiyero, I want to know how you knew where to find me. Why did you look here, of all places?"

'Oh, crap.' He'd been dreading this very question for days. It crossed his mind that perhaps he should be glad that she was bedridden; she could do him less damage that way. 'Get it over with.' "I uh…I live here," he said cautiously, watching her face for a reaction.

Predictably, her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. But even as sick as she was, she put the pieces together quickly. "Fiyero…what's your last name?" she asked slowly.

He was silent for a moment. Then,"Tiggular." The word hung in the air as he watched her think it over, expressionless.

Elphaba had been unconscious for the majority of her stay at the palace, but she knew who that name belonged to. "You're the prince." He nodded.

And then came the reaction he'd been waiting for. "Why didn't you just tell me?" she demanded, her voice scratching out each word like a nail against sandpaper. "I came all this way to escape you-" She stopped at the stricken look on his face, already regretting her words- regardless, or perhaps because of, their truth.

There was a long moment of silence. Fiyero had wondered, when he wasn't consumed with worry for her, why she'd gone to such lengths trying to ensure that they would never meet again. But this was the first time either of them had brought the question out into the open.

He looked searchingly into her eyes for a few long seconds, and then he forced a smile that did little to hide his confusion. "Am I really that bad?" he tried to joke. "I mean, to put yourself through all this just to avoid me…that's a little extreme, don't you think?"

Elphaba squeezed her eyes shut. She rolled over onto her side, but not before a tear squeezed through her lashes. "Don't ask me to explain," she whispered. "Please. Just don't."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Glinda was fuming. For two weeks, Fiyero had slaved over that blasted green girl, sitting with her day and night and catering to her every whim.

And if Elphaba Thropp was green, Glinda Upland was positively emerald with envy.

Fiyero had just requested that she keep an eye on "Elphie" while he stepped out to speak with the doctor. She'd complied with a sympathetic smile so forced that she was amazed he didn't see right through it.

Glinda settled herself on the chair by the bed, still warm from the long hours Fiyero had spent in it, and looked with disdain on the girl who absorbed so much of _her_ prince's energy. _'She's not even pretty,' _she thought sulkily. _'What could she possibly have that I don't?_'

A tear trickled down her porcelain cheek. It just wasn't fair. _'He's all I want, Lurline,'_ she prayed silently. _'You can take my jewels and my dresses and my money- just give me Fiyero.'_

Glinda went back to studying Elphaba. '_Green skin, for Oz's sake…'_ She pulled back one side of the comforter curiously. Sure enough, the girl's hand was the same revolting green as her face, and it was clutching a brown leather pouch that looked like it might fall apart at any moment. Elphaba grumbled in her sleep and pulled the pouch closer. Her fingers curled around the bottom half of the stained and worn-down leather, leaving the flap and clasp exposed.

'_Hmmm…'_ Glinda strained her ears for Fiyero's voice. He seemed to be deep in conversation with the doctor still. Moving swiftly, she unhooked the clasp and flipped the pouch open. She licked her lips and glanced nervously around the room, and then began to ease out what looked like an ancient book- one careful inch at a time, so as not to wake the green girl.

And then it was out. Glinda sat down with her prize, fully aware that she had about two minutes at the most to look through it. She studied the cryptic writing on the cover, running a finger over the strange symbols. She recognized them instantly as the ancient language- the language of magic, of power."It's a spell book," she murmured to herself. Her eyes flicked back up to Elphaba. Could she read it?

The intense jealousy she'd already been harboring flared; what she wouldn't give to get her hands on this book for more than a few minutes…She flipped greedily through the thick, yellowed pages, and her spine began to tingle; the power in the words was obvious. She could only make out bits and pieces of each spell, but they seemed almost…_evil._

She turned another page, and her eyes went wide. She let out her breath in a hiss. "_Yes_."

This one she could read: _'Complete control over emotions…effortless manipulation… __**Make **__him love you…'_ It was a love potion- a very potent one. Her fingers twitched toward the upper end of the worn parchment, but she hesitated. "Oh, I shouldn't…" she whispered.

She heard footsteps in the next room, and the scraping of a chair being pushed back. One more look at the nearly comatose Elphaba, and Glinda tore the page from the book, folding it up quickly with shaking fingers. Flushed and clumsy with nervous excitement, she slipped the book back into its pouch, and had just tucked the precious paper down the front of her dress when the door opened to admit a beaming Fiyero.

He practically waltzed across the room, and pulled her into a tight hug. Her heart fluttered wildly; never before had he touched her voluntarily. When he pulled away she was breathless, but her smile was as bright as his own.

"What's the occasion?" she asked.

"Good news!" he said excitedly. "She's going to be fine, and it shouldn't be more than a week or two before she's up and walking about."

"Oh…" Glinda's smile faltered, and she turned away so that he wouldn't see her eyes filling with tears. "That's great, Fiyero. I umm….I have to go."

She rushed from the room, and fled down the hallway and around the corner. '_He can __**not**__ see me cry…'_ But she knew he wouldn't follow her. The thought stopped her, and she leaned against the wall, panting slightly. _'He's not going to come, Glinda._' Still, she closed her eyes and pretended that he was. She imagined him racing down the hall after her, then gathering her into his arms and-

That was too much. Glinda pressed her face into the cool stone and sobbed.

* * *

**And now we've got some **_**very**_** fun plot twists coming up. Unfortunately for Elphie (and Fiyero), I have a very twisted idea of fun:D Please review!**


	12. Confusion

**Disclaimer: As evidenced in the forthcoming chapter by prose which is somewhat lacking in brilliance and sophistication, the marvelous creation otherwise known as "Wicked" is utterly and completely outside of my rights to lay claim upon, resulting in the professed need for a repetitive and thoroughly uninteresting disclaimer at the commencement of each chapter, which it is now my privilege to subject you all to. **

**Props to anybody who can make that sentence longer! XD**

**We hit 100 reviews!! Thanks everyone!**

**And thanks to eppie, my lovely brand new beta, for editing this chappie for me! Of course, I've added several scenes since I sent it to her (her suggestions pretty much doubled the length of the chapter), so any mistakes are my fault. But if you notice improvements from now on, we have her to thank:P**

* * *

Over the next week, true to the doctor's word, Elphaba became much more alert. She slept less often, coughed rarely, and even exchanged occasional banter with Fiyero, though she was still required to spend the majority of her time in bed- the doctor had suggested it, and Fiyero wasn't taking any chances.

Elphaba's mood was nothing if not unpredictable. Sometimes she laughed, sometimes she glowered, and all the while, something in Fiyero was changing. There was something about being there for all of it—the ups and the downs—that made even her most towering fury not frightening, but endearing. Every smile, every gesture, and even every scowl was embedded into his memory, to be recreated with perfect accuracy in his dreams.

Sometimes, when she slept, he would run his fingers ever so lightly over her cheekbones, her full bottom lip, the delicate curve of her nose. Once, he could have sworn that as he'd done so, she'd smiled and even emitted a soft sigh.

But when she awoke, it was always the same; she was mostly withdrawn, apart from occasional moments of abandon—precious times when she would just let herself _be_. But those times were few and far between.

Fiyero lived for them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ironically enough, Fiyero found himself wandering down the castle's many corridors one night with the intention of doing something he'd once sworn he'd never do--ask his mother for romantic advice. He didn't know what in Oz he was supposed to do about Elphaba, and he--

_'What in Lurline's name?'_ What sounded like an extremely impressive shouting match was coming from the royal bedroom. He inched closer, curious.

"I don't care what you've been planning!" came his mother's voice. "Fiyero can't stand that girl, and frankly, I don't blame him. I'm not going to back down on this one, Thorin."

The king sputtered angrily. "But that Elphaba of his is _green_. I will not allow my son to-"

There was a loud crash. "By Lurline, Thorin, _yes_ you will. I will not see him forced into a loveless marriage; I'd sooner abduct the both of them and leave the country. You can be a tyrant if you want to, but don't expect me to be here to put up with you."

Footsteps approached the door, and Fiyero scrambled to get out of sight. He thought on the way back to Elphaba's room that he'd never loved his mother more than he did just then.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Elphaba? Elphie, are you awake?"

Fiyero's soft call reached her from the other side of the room, where the door clicked shut slowly. The lamplight was dim, thankfully, and didn't hurt her eyes as she opened them.

"Yes, I'm awake." She felt strangely calm, off-edge for once. When Fiyero settled down in the chair near her bed, she even went so far as to ask, "Where were you?"

He looked surprised—not that she blamed him; any signs of actually caring on her part were kept to a bare minimum.

Fiyero waited a moment to answer. "I went to talk to my mother about something, but she and my father were having an argument. I probably shouldn't have listened, but it was….interesting, to say the least."

Elphaba pretended to be appalled. "Eavesdropping on your parents—for shame, Fiyero." She paused and then smirked. "You couldn't find anyone more exciting to spy on? I would've thought you'd be poking your head in Miss Glinda's window."

"Ugh, don't talk to me about her--you're _much_ more fun. Maybe I'll decide to eavesdrop on your sleep-talking instead." He smiled mischievously.

Elphaba's good mood evaporated. "I talk in my sleep?" She paled. What had he heard? Oz knew her dreams were mostly nightmares, forever haunted by images of the fire, Lamia, and her dead mother.

Fiyero was obviously startled by her sudden anxiety, and his answer was calculated, careful. "You never really say much—just something about someone named Lamia."

"Lamia?" She felt herself turn even whiter, if possible, and Fiyero was quick to add, "But none of it makes any sense—it's just bits and pieces, and I try not to listen." She doubted that was true. Still, he was probably right about it not making sense. She could only hope it stayed that way.

Elphaba was grateful when he changed the subject. "Say, Elphie, how 'bout I teach you how to play chess?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Checkmate."

Elphaba gleefully whacked Fiyero's king off the board with her queen. "Time number three, wasn't it?" Fiyero nodded miserably.

Elphaba pondered that briefly, then grinned. "I kind of like this game. Let's play again."

He groaned. "There's only so much a guy can take, Elphaba. How about we try a different game?"

Her smile turned impish. "Ok—I'll just beat you at that one, too."

Fiyero chuckled in spite of his recent and repeated humiliation. "You know, you probably would." He leaned forward and shoved the chessboard out of the way, resting his forearms on the bed. His tongue darted out rather nervously to wet his lips. "Let's just talk, then," he said.

Elphaba instantly withdrew, as she always did when the conversation threatened to get personal. "Talk?" she repeated, uncertain as to what that might entail.

"Yeah, you know—about life, about you, about...about _us_, if there is one."

A sharp intake of breath, and he looked up into her tense, anxious face. "C'mon, Elphie," he said softly. "All I'm asking is that we talk about it. Is it really going to kill you?"

She let out her breath noisily. "Well, it might. I should have died—what—three times now? I think you'd be tempting fate to press the issue." She tried to make a joke of it, tried to quiet the excitement that had bubbled up inside her at his use of the word 'us'. She knew she shouldn't feel it, knew it was dangerous—but there it was.

Fiyero threw up his hands at her comment about fate, startling her. "_I'm_ the one tempting fate?"

Elphaba gave him a blank stare. "What do you mean?"

"Elphaba…" His breath shook as he exhaled, letting her know that he was just as uncomfortable as she was. "We need to talk about what happened at the hotel—why you ran away. Was it something I did?"

He looked so pathetic—like he earnestly believed he'd done something wrong. No, the problem was what he'd done _right_. She fumbled for an answer. "No, Fiyero, it's….it's just that I can't be…that is, _we_ shouldn't be…together," she finished lamely.

"You know what I think?" Fiyero took her hands and looked her right in the eye, his gaze full of gentle defiance. "I think you're wrong. I _know_ you're wrong. Elphaba, we belong together; I've never been so sure of anything in my life."

Elphaba opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a finger. "Let me finish. You can call it whatever you like, but I'm telling you right now that _this—" _He raised their interlocked fingers—_'When did that happen?'_ "This is fate, this is real. Why else would I have been at your house that night? Why would I have seen in the window earlier that day and known you needed my help? Why would you have run away to the one place that I'd be sure to find you again? This was _meant_ to happen, and all you have to do is let it. Is that so hard?"

"Well…" Elphaba's mouth was paper-dry. She wondered if that's why Fiyero had licked his lips earlier, and she tried it. It didn't work. "I've always been a non-conformist," she offered weakly when no other answer presented itself.

"But can't you tell me _why_ you won't have me?" he pleaded.

Elphaba braved a look into his eyes, and just like that her will towards secrecy crumbled. "Not _won't_, Yero." Her voice held an unmistakable tenderness, and she could tell that he heard it. "_Can't_. I can't have you, no matter how much I want to."

She took a deep breath…and she told him everything.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I don't care."

Those were the first words that left Fiyero's lips when he was able to speak. "I don't care if it's dangerous," he said again, more emphatically, as his water-logged brain struggled to catch up. Fragments of a plan began to spill from his lips at a feverish pace. "I can help, I can hide you, and then we can—"

"No." That one word was all it took to send him crashing back down to reality; he had stupidly failed to remember that he was talking to the most stubborn and disagreeable woman in Oz.

He was painfully aware of it now. "No?"

"No." Her tone was hard, resolved—not promising. "The best thing for you is to just stay out of it completely."

Fiyero thought he'd never heard anything more ridiculous, and he told her so. "There's some crazy witch-lady after you, and you expect me to just 'stay out of it'? Look, I know you think you can just do everything yourself, but that one's really, _really_ out there. Not going to happen."

Elphaba glared. "It _is_ going to happen."

He glared right back. "No."

"_Yes_."

"_No!_"

"You do realize that I can _make_ you stay out of it."

Fiyero scoffed. "Yeah? How?"

"Lamia's not the only witch involved here."

Her words hit him like a blow to the stomach. "What are you implying?"

She held his gaze defiantly. "I will _not_ let you get killed because of me."

"So what then? You're going to use your powers on me? Control me like some puppet on a string?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Elphaba looked down at her hands and whispered, "I could." She shivered. "But don't make me do it, Fiyero."

Fiyero was silent. What could he possibly say? The silence dragged on and on; he didn't know how to break it.

"Yero?" Her voice was small, unsure, and he felt a soft hand touch his own. "I'm sorry."

"Elphaba, I thought…I just thought…." How could he tell her now? How could her tell her how often he'd pictured them together, how he'd seen the two of them—well, it didn't matter anymore; he'd made quite enough of a fool of himself already. "Never mind what I thought. What do you want from me? Do you want me to just," he swallowed hard, "go away?"

Her expression was strained. "I just need some time to think this over, Fiyero. Some time by myself when I'm…thinking clearly." For some reason that he couldn't comprehend, she blushed.

Shrugging that off as unimportant, he nodded slowly. "Ok. But can you do one thing for me?" _'Might as well give her something to think about.'_

"What is it?"

He didn't answer, but rose from his chair and repositioned himself on the bed, facing her with only a few inches between his chest and her shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm making my case." He started to lean in, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Fiyero, you'll get sick—"

"Shh." Truly, he didn't care. He kissed away her protestations, wishing he could kiss away Lamia and the Grimmerie just as easily.

It was better than he remembered. He forced himself to keep it short, and then he looked into her confused, beautiful eyes and said, "I want you to think about how it could be—stop focusing on just the bad. You are _way_ to consequence-oriented. Try to see it my way, ok? Just once, try."

"Yes," she whispered.

He crossed the room, pausing at the door to glance over his shoulder. And then the door swung shut and he was gone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * ** ** * * *

Glinda hovered just out of sight behind the slightly open door to Elphaba's bedroom. The voices on the other side sounded much too furtive to mean anything good. She pressed an ear against the wood, praying that the door wouldn't creak and give her away.

Fiyero was speaking. Squeezing her eyes shut, she focused all her attention on making out the words. At first she could only catch bits and pieces, and then there was a pause. When he spoke again, she could hear every word, and she wished she could've been deaf rather than hear what the man she'd hoped to marry said next—"Elphaba, we belong together."

Glinda didn't wait for Elphaba's response. She fell in a daze against the wall by the door, one hand pressed against her spinning head. Her heart thudding painfully in her chest, she did the only thing she could do—she ran.

Tears poured unheeded down her cheeks as she tripped up the two flights of stairs to her bedroom. She flung the door open and stood in the doorway, chest heaving, for a single moment before flying in an impassioned frenzy to her vanity.

Trembling fingers clawed through drawer after drawer, never slowing their pace until they found what they were looking for. And there it was—the same worn piece of parchment that she'd nobly resolved never to use. To give in after only a week would be a shameful display of weakness…

She thought of Fiyero downstairs, blissfully unaware of her torment. Perhaps even now, his perfect lips were pressing themselves upon two hideous green ones. "We belong together."

She looked down at the parchment once again. '_But you promised,'_ her conscience tried one last time. "We belong together…."

That promise meant nothing anymore.

* * *

**More of me being evil coming up in the next one, I believe. Or maybe it will be in the chapter after that--we'll see. Review please!**


	13. Calm

**I'm grounded from the internet (my parents an I just got into the worst fight I've ever been in), so I have to be sneaky. This one's short, but it seemed like a good place to stop. I apologize for any typos; I don't have time to proofread before my mom comes downstairs. **

* * *

A week. That's how long had passed since she'd had more than a passing glimpse of Fiyero. She was back on her feet now, fully recovered, but mostly she kept to her room, agonizing over the decision that she'd give anything not to make.

Elphaba rolled over. Huffed. Rolled again. She blew out her breath in a long, exasperated stream. Could she not escape her issues even in sleep? Was that too much to ask? It was like that story she'd once read, "The Princess and the Pea"—only instead of a pea, she was sleeping on a dilemma the size of a mountain, and a stack of mattresses would do even less to alleviate her discomfort than it did the princess's.

Another half hour of tossing and turning uselessly, and she gave up. She slipped out of bed and shrugged into the silky ivory robe that the queen had insisted on providing her with. The silk was comforting, even if the color left something to be desired.

Her bare feet carried her to the window with barely a sound; the silence was broken only by the faint whisper of fabric swishing around her ankles. Elphaba looked without seeing into the moonlit castle grounds. The myriad of shadows, complex patterns in contrasting shades of light and dark, went unnoticed.

But then the shadows directly beneath her window shifted, and a familiar shape emerged. Elphaba's unseeing eyes focused.

It was Fiyero. He took a few meandering steps, head ducked and hands shoved deep in his pockets, and then he stopped and dropped his head back. Looking at the moon?

She could imagine his expression: brooding, enraptured…and beautiful—much too beautiful. Elphaba sighed, and almost as if he heard her, Fiyero turned. He was too far down for their eyes to meet, but he froze, and she was sure that he saw her.

She rested her fingers against the cool glass, then took a deep breath and pushed. Leaning out over the ledge into the crisp night air, she could see his face more clearly. He offered a small smile.

Should she wave? That would be encouraging. Was she in a position to be encouraging? She hadn't decided yet.

But her hand had already loosened its grip on the sill and made its way to shoulder height. She gave an almost imperceptible wave. Then, wondering as she did so why she seemed to have no control over her body, she called down softly, "Fiyero?" Maybe he wouldn't hear.

No such luck. His musical voice floated back up to her. "Yeah?"

'_I miss you.'_ "Good night."

"Good night, Elphie."

* * * * * * * * * * * * ** * *

Smoothly pressed button-up—check. Sophisticated suit coat, expensive boots waxed to mirror-like perfection—double check. Cream colored tights that showed him off a little too well….yes, the ones he was wearing certainly did that. On went the familiar silken tie; practiced fingers made quick work of the knot.

He'd been through this routine a thousand times, and hated each one more than the last. Tonight was no exception.

There was to be a grand banquet, complete with more food than anyone could eat, more dancing than anyone's feet could stand, and more stuffy high society than anyone cared to become acquainted with. And Glinda. There was going to be far more Glinda than any one man should ever be called upon to tolerate.

But he was expected to do it all—taste every dish, dance every dance, remember every name, and appear alongside Glinda as the perfectly dignified host of a perfectly dignified evening. All in a day's work, right? He could handle that.

It was the final item on his list that provided the challenge: Try not to think about Elphaba. At least, not _too_ much. Or even just slightly less than constantly.

'_Oh boy.'_

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Well, Miss Glinda, if you don't mind my saying so, it seems to me that-"

"Tighter," Glinda cut in sharply.

Starla gave a harder-than-necessary yank on the corset strings and continued to chatter away, oblivious to (or choosing to ignore) Glinda's gasp of pain. "Like I was sayin', it seems to me that Master Fiyero's got hisself a-pinin' away for _some_body, Lurline bless 'im. Poor soul. Pinin' ain't good for nobody, and a prince sweet as him…" She tutted sympathetically.

Glinda saw her expression turn to ice in the mirror. "He won't need to pine for long." She looked hard at her reflection, hardly sparing a glance for the woman hovering over her shoulder. "Leave me."

Starla was affronted. "No ma'am, not without you properly dressed an'-"

"I can do it myself. I wish to be alone."

Glinda's tone left no room for debate. With an air of extreme indignance, the maid bustled from the room, leaving behind her a frightened girl who was alone in more ways than she realized.

Glinda's face betrayed none of the conflicting emotions she felt as she eased open a small drawer near her mirror and extracted a tiny crystal vial. She turned it over in her fingers, watching the golden lamplight send glittering shards of light bouncing off the crystal. They flickered across the room, darting this way and that with each turn of the bottle.

The liquid that filled it was a deep ruby-red—an identical shade to the rich wine Glinda had selected for that evening's banquet. Coincidence? Absolutely not.

Nerves twisted her stomach. '_No one will ever know,'_ she reassured herself. No one could—not Fiyero, not his parents, not even hers. No matter how badly Lord and Lady Upland wanted the match, they would never approve the measure she was about to take.

'_They don't understand…'_ No one understood how she _needed_ him. She could hardly understand it herself, hardly believe what she was about to do. A tremor of fear ran through her, followed by a flash of the anger that had gotten her this far.

It was _her_ fault. Glinda's grip on the vial tightened. Elphaba had driven her to this. Fiyero would have learned to love her. He _would_ have, if not for her.

But no matter. "Tonight…" She fingered the bottle's delicate stopper, and her rosebud mouth twisted into a grim smile. "Tonight he will."


	14. Revised AN

**I'm back!! Thanks everybody for all of your ridiculously sweet comments, and for being patient and not disowning me. =DD I'm sorry I don't have chapter for you right now. I just got my brace off, and I can't play piano or do anything strenuous yet, but I can type! I don't have anything written yet, but since I've really nothing else to do (besides quit my job tomorrow, HEHEHE), I'll try to get one up within the next day or so. **

**Also, sorry to everybody whose stories I haven't been reading and reviewing--I was out of town, so it was kind of difficult. I'll catch up as soon as I can!**


	15. Blur

**Disclaimer: I do not own Wicked.**

**Umm…hi guys. I don't really know what to say, other than that I've seriously been trying to focus on this chapter for over a month, but umm….(*blushes*) who knew boyfriends could be so distracting? I sure didn't. I'm so confuzzled lately. And it's all his fault, I swear. :D haha**

**But thank you all so much for your sweet comments a while back. I probably already said that somewhere, but it's worth saying again. Thank you thank you thank you!!! **

**Alright, my friends…here we go.**

* * *

"Fiyero," Glinda giggled. "That statue is…naked." More giggling. "Here, let's give him your shirt." She tugged clumsily at his shirt sleeve, stumbling as her somewhat inhibited faculties became absorbed in the task.

Fiyero made a silent entreaty to Lurline for patience as he righted the tipsy girl. "Glinda, please." He nudged her towards a nearby bench. "Sit down."

Grumbling a little, Glinda fought against her voluminous skirts and tried to sit. After two failed attempts, she hiked the many layers of fabric up to her waist, revealing frilly pink undergarments, and plopped down on the bench. Fiyero averted his eyes modestly, but he couldn't help the amused smile that inched across his face; she really was a much better-behaved drunk than most.

Even so, she had caused quite a scene back in the ballroom, hanging on him like a monkey and giggling for far too long and at far too high of a pitch and volume at everything he said. He'd had to practically carry her out to the garden to spare himself further humiliation.

He sighed and turned back towards her. She was humming quietly to herself, swinging her legs and gazing up at the many flowering trees and bushes that formed a sagging arch over their heads.

"Glinda." She didn't so much as flinch, clearly lost in her own little world. "_Glinda_."

She lolled her head over to the side and gave him a dreamy smile. "Glinda…it's such a pretty name…."

He knelt in frustrated supplication. "For the love of Oz, Glinda, please tell me what you've been drinking! It couldn't have been the same punch that I was."

To his surprise and relief, Glinda's head snapped up. "Drinking? What did you drink?" She grabbed hold of his collar and gripped it tightly, suddenly anxious.

Unsettled, he replied, "Um, punch?" Her grip on his collar loosened. "Punch," she repeated faintly. She seemed to stare right through him as he whispered, "Yes, that's right."

* * * * ** * * * * * * * * *

_The guests had been seated, and Glinda was all smiles and generous compliments—or rather little white lies that sounded like compliments. She seemed the perfect hostess. But under the richly decorated table, her fingers were twisting themselves together in almost irrepressible anxiety._

_The drinks would arrive any moment._

_Almost as if on cue, a servant bearing a platter of glittering wine glasses appeared at her shoulder. Two of the glasses sported thin golden rings around the top. _

"_Excuse me, ma'am." Just as she'd instructed, the left-most gold-rimmed glass was given to Fiyero, while the one on the right was placed in front of her. Then the waiter moved on, placing identical, gold-free glasses in front of the rest of the guests. _

_But the chattering room full of nobles was lost to Glinda after that; they may as well have vanished. Fiyero had just given a tight-lipped smile to the waiter…. _

…_and lifted his glass to his mouth. _

_There was a moment of sheer anticipation….and then panic as the conscience-reliant part of herself that she'd successfully subdued up until that point resurfaced. From far away, she heard herself cry out, "No!" _

_Startled, Fiyero nearly dumped the contents of the glass into his lap. "Glinda, what in Oz are you trying-"_

_Glinda's fingers were already prying the glass from his grip. She blinked. "Oh, I um….I…didn't I ever tell you that…that I don't drink alcohol? This one's mine—sparkling grape juice." _

"_Oh." He seemed moderately convinced. "Ok."_

_Glinda smiled and nodded. Still in a bit of a daze, she kept nodding until his eyebrows raised in question. Then she looked down at the glass in her hand, and the smile melted right off her face. She gulped._

_Now she had to drink it. _

_But surely it couldn't make her fall in love with herself…__** 'So what's the harm in drinking it?'**__ she reasoned. __**'So I may be a bit woozy for a while…What's the worst that could happen?'**_

_She closed her eyes briefly and inhaled. When she raised her head she saw a table full of expensively clad debutantes, their arrogant young suitors, and their status-obsessed mothers, and she was struck with the distinct impression that she didn't belong. But she pasted on her usual hundred-watt smile, stood, and cleared her throat. _

"_A toast." Glinda beamed at her guests as best she could. "To love…life…and parties." She nearly choked on the words. They tasted sour and foreign, but no one seemed to notice the distaste with which she spoke them. _

_She raised her glass to her lips and paused. "To spinsterdom," she muttered, and then she drained her own love potion in one long gulp. _

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Yes, that's right."

There was a very long, very awkward pause. Fiyero shifted and was about to stand when Glinda spoke abruptly, her normally delicate speech hinting towards a drawl in her current state. "Fiyero, after tonight I'm going to leave you alone, and I'll tell my parents to do the same." Her eyebrows scrunched together. "But.."

"But what?" _'Is she serious?' _Maybe Glinda wasn't so bad after all.

She hesitated. "Will you do me a favor before I go?"

"Umm, I guess so."

She seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, then went on."Close your eyes."

He did. After a moment, he felt a gloved hand on his cheek, and then a pair of small, very soft lips grazed his own.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Elphaba stood in front of the floor-length mirror in her borrowed bedroom. She tilted her head, grimaced, adjusted a few things, grimaced again, and finally threw up her hands in defeat; it would just have to do.

She had managed to find a somewhat acceptable and almost…_flattering_ dress in the wardrobe that had been provided for her. She would have reasonably been pleased with it, had it been black; as it was not, she had spent the last quarter of an hour trying to convince herself that the deep purple satin didn't clash _too_ badly with her obnoxious skin tone.

It wasn't working.

Even so, purple was vastly preferable to the garish colors that filled the rest of her

closet: lavender, yellow, blue, and—Oz forbid—_pink_. Pink was the color that that ridiculous Glinda and other high-society girls seemed to favor. Elphaba shuddered and turned back to the mirror.

"Why am I even doing this?" She frowned at her reflection. "I must be crazy." That thought brought a ghost of a smile to her lips. "Yes," she murmured. "Yes, I am."

She'd made up her mind that it was about time she did something that _she_ wanted to do. Something that would make _her_ happy for a change. Something crazy, something risky, something completely outside her usual self.

She'd decided to take Fiyero up on his offer.

She used as justification a saying she'd heard once or twice: "All's fair in love and war." True or not, she rather liked the idea.

Now, on to the reason for the dress. Elphaba had learned from a maid that Fiyero was hosting a ball that night. She planned to slip into the ballroom and—actually, she wasn't quite sure what she would do then. Try to stay out of sight until she found an opportunity to talk to him, and then….

She put a hand to her tingling lips, feeling a now familiar blush warm her cheeks. No, she would _not_ think about that. Thinking about kissing Fiyero did strange things to her. If she dwelled on it too long, her knees would start knocking and her stomach would twist with fear—fear about things like: "What if I'm really horrible at it and he just didn't notice the first two times?", and "What if I taste bad?", and the worst one of all: "What if it's all a joke?"

That worry plagued her, because honestly—who in his right mind would fall in love with her? Try as she might, she couldn't come up with a satisfactory explanation for _that._

But, explainable or not, reasonable or not, _possible_ or not, the evidence was there: he'd saved her life once, and taken her all the way to Emerald Cit only to go on a wild goose chase that had finally led him back here. Would he do all of that as a _joke?_ She wanted to believe that he wouldn't; unattractive as she was, surely he couldn't hate her that much.

'_Have a little backbone, Elphaba,_' she challenged herself silently. Then, squaring her shoulders, she marched out into the hall.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

About fifteen minutes later, Elphaba stood at the garden gate, thinking that all of her worries had been nothing compared to _this—_nothing compared to reality.

Reality was that Fiyero was there, just as she'd been told when she asked after him in the ballroom. Reality was that he was on his knees in front of the one person that could ruin everything she'd wished for when she stood in front of her mirror, playing dress up in the hope of catching a prince.

Reality was Glinda.

Elphaba leaned into the gate post, hugging the small statue that rested on it. She couldn't hear what they said, but she could see. Glinda clutched Fiyero's collar and spoke fervently, and he listened without pulling away.

Elphaba made herself breathe. _'That doesn't necessarily mean anything. Calm down…'_ And she was right; talking meant nothing.

Kissing was a different story. She pushed away from the statue and ran, not caring that it crashed to the ground behind her. She ignored the shouts that followed her, and didn't stop running until she was safely in her room with the door locked and bolted.

And then she dropped to her knees and cried.

* * *

**If anybody is confused, the part in italics was Glinda's memory of the banquet. K? **

**You know what to do. Pwease?**


	16. Abduction

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Well, we all know I'm the world's worst updater, so I won't say anything about that. ******** But umm…I hope this one's ok. It's short, but I am so fed up with it that this is just how it's going to be. I had the most amazing idea for this scene originally, but I just couldn't write it. It wouldn't come. So I had to give up and try something else. **

* * *

Fiyero blinked the rain out of his eyes for what seemed like the thousandth time; it would help if he could actually _see_ what he was doing. Gripping the ladder he'd dragged half a mile from the stable to the castle, he squinted up at Elphaba's window and shifted his means of breaking and entering until it lined up with the glass. He leaned all of his weight on a waist-high rung, driving the base of the ladder into the soggy grounds in the hope that the thick mud would be enough to secure it.

Finally, convinced that there was nothing else to be done, he set one mud-caked shoe on the first drenched step and began to climb. When he reached the top, he peered through the water-blurred window to see a green-and-purple lump in the middle of the bed. _Bingo_.

He jiggled the bottom of the window till it popped free of the ledge, and eased it upward, thanking Oz that it didn't squeak—the last thing he needed on top of a ladder was an awake and angry Elphaba. Climbing inside would be a bit more difficult, but that too went smoothly, until—

_Thump._ He lost his footing on the slippery top rung and went crashing from the window seat to the floor of Elphaba's bedroom. He squeezed his eyes shut, listening for movement.

Nothing. Elphaba was still asleep. Fiyero dropped his head back to the floor in relief and groaned.

"Ouch." He'd dropped it a little too hard, apparently.

The sound of creaking mattress springs made him freeze. More creaking, and then soft footsteps padded across the floor. He raised his head a few inches to see two green feet about a foot from his head, and then followed the long stretch of purple silk up to Elphaba's groggy but stern expression. He slowly pushed up to his hands and knees and stood.

"Elphaba, I can explain."

"Then do. Explain why I just found you kissing Glinda after you begged me to give _us_ a chance."

"It wasn't what it—"

"Wasn't what it looked like?" She gave a derisive laugh. "Please."

Elphaba turned to stalk away, but Fiyero grabbed hold of her forearm. She whirled on him with a sudden vengeance and let her left hand fly. Fiyero staggered backwards and she followed him, pounding on his chest as angry tears began to fall.

"You jerk, how could you—"

"Elphaba! Elphaba, please, just listen to me." He caught her wrists and wrestled her hands into stillness. She jerked from his grasp and stood back from him, crossing her arms over her heaving chest.

"Fine, explain. She kissed _you_, right?"

"Yes!"

Elphaba snorted. "Do you think I'm that stupid? I'm green, yes, but I assure you my coloring has no effect on my brain."

"Just LISTEN to me!!" Fiyero exploded. Elphaba blinked, stunned, and he took advantage of her silence. "Glinda got drunk and made a scene, so I had to take her outside. She asked me to close my eyes and I did, and she kissed me. I didn't expect it, I didn't _want _it, and I swear I was about to pull away when you saw us."

"But how can I _believe_ that, Fiyero? How do I know?"

"Elphaba, I _love_ you."

Her jaw popped open slightly, and it took him a moment to remember that he'd never told her that before; it seemed such a natural thing to say. He watched her intently, until she finally looked away. "I believe you." She swiped her palm across her cheeks and met his eyes again. "So what happens now?"

Fiyero sank down onto the window seat and tried to slow his pounding heart. "Well, that depends. Have you made your decision?"

"Yes."

"…And?"

"Yes. My answer is yes."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Then in that case, Miss Thropp, what happens now is that you suddenly realize that I am so irresistibly attractive that you just can't help…"

"Can't help what?" She inched closer, fighting a smile of her own.

"Well…kissing me, for starters."

Elphaba stopped right in front of him and cocked her head. "Can't help it, can I?"

"No, you can't." He grabbed her hand and tugged her down to his level, gathering her thick curtain of hair in his free hand and moving it from his path.

"You're soaking me, you realize."

Fiyero pulled back far enough for her to see his raised eyebrows. "Do you care?"

"Not really."

"Didn't think so."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Some time later, the two of them were comfortably settled on the hearthrug in front of the fire, cocooned in the downy comforter from Elphaba's bed. Fiyero's shirt hung to dry on the mantle.

Shadows danced on the walls in the near-dark, and the glow from the fire lit on the drowsy couple. There was no sound in the room apart from their breathing and the soft crackling of the flames, and the whisper of skin against fabric.

Neither of them heard the door swing open, and neither of them saw the tall blonde woman cross the room to where they lay. She stood over them for a moment, her long black cloak a stark contrast to the warm glow from the fire.

Quickly but silently, she dropped into a crouch. A thin hand emerged from the folds of her cloak and brushed across Fiyero's brow. He didn't stir. "Fiyero."

His eyes flickered open. "Fiyero, look at me." Fiyero's gaze darted upward to lock with hers. There was no question of looking away. Lamia held a finger to her lips. She stood and beckoned to him. "Come."

* * *

**My happily-ever-afters are always a little too easy….so I think we'll shake things up a little this time. :D Anyways, if you guys are still reading, reviews are always much appreciated!**


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